


Book of the Nerevarine I: Moon and Star

by NightingaleTrash



Series: Tales From Tamriel [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: F/M, Fan-Mod Content, Morrowind Main quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/pseuds/NightingaleTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born under a certain sign to uncertain parents, a young dunmer simply known as Ash finds herself in a peculiar position: either she can wait out her sentence in the Imperial City's Prison, or she can accept a deal given to her by the Emperor himself. But there is more to their deal than simply following the orders of the Emperor's agents, and Ash soon finds herself as Morrowind's last hope against the power of the awakened Sixth House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

The situation in Morrowind was quickly destabilising. The reports of the spreading Blight beyond the Ghostfence were swiftly increasing in frequency to the point of alarm, and the Tribunal’s apparent inaction was causing worry to spread quickly among the population of the eastern province. It seemed the time of theTribunal was coming to its appointed end, just as the Scrolls foretold. But without the one who would bring that end, the future remained unclear.

_Each Event is preceded by Prophecy, but without the Hero, there is no Event - Zurin Arctus | The Underking_

It was by mere chance that the information came to her attention, but considering its importance, she was willing to allow chance to play into her work. After all, tugging strings and ensuring things came to pass was only the influence of chance in her favor. Such occurrences of random chance were acceptable.

Sanera found herself unfortunately deep in paperwork that particular afternoon. With Uriel’s declining health, she was trapped in the unpleasant position of taking on more of his responsibilities, as were many members of his staff. Delegations were made and everyone knew his own allotted time was drawing near.

Sanera personally hoped it was later rather than sooner. If Uriel’s dreams were accurate, his death would lead to nothing but destruction and coupled with the situation in Morrowind, it was a recipe for complete and utter disaster. And the piece of the puzzle required for that day to come was still not in place just yet. She just needed more time. Something that Akatosh was not willing to give.

“Advisor, if I might have a moment of your time.”

Sanera looked up to see Captain Renault approaching. A breton woman with hard grey eyes and a steely disposition, she was the perfect person to be commanding the Blades who operated in public. Sanera wouldn’t call her a friend, but she was a trusted colleague, and that was close enough.

“Captain,” Sanera greeted, setting her quill to one side.

“I have something that I think you will find interesting. I was informed that you asked the guards that any information on prisoners meeting certain criteria be sent your way.”

Now that was interesting. Renault held out a scroll of parchment and Sanera took it, breaking the wax seal and peeling it open.

A new arrival in the Imperial Prison, arrested just last night for breaking into First Edition and attempting to steal several books. Their profile read quite typical, except for two key pieces of information.

“A prisoner born under a certain sign to uncertain parents,” she murmured, her mind whirring away, already putting a plan together. She turned back to Renault. “I will need to meet this prisoner personally. Have any release or execution delayed indefinitely. I believe the Emperor will find this interesting.”

Renault looked perplexed, but didn't question her. She merely nodded, gave a polite incline of her head, and marched away.

The rest of her paperwork now insignificant, Sanera waved a hand and magicked them into a neat pile to be finished later. She’d have Glabrio do it. This was far more important.

Uriel was resting in his chambers and the healers had said he was not to be disturbed, so Sanera made her way over to the Imperial Prison. If this person could fulfill the prophecy, then she had to be certain it was worth disturbing Uriel over. And it was always worthwhile to ensure that they were going to cooperate.

The guards directed Sanera down into the prisons where the thief was being held. Apparently she had offered little to no resistance once captured, though it had taken six guards to actually catch her in the first place, and one of them had lost fingers. Good. Someone who simply accepted defeat just wouldn’t do.

The thief had also said little in her incarceration, and she mostly responded to questions with one word answers. Provided she answer at all, it wouldn’t be a problem.

The cell was small, dark and dingy, and chillingly cold, and sitting there unfazed was the prisoner.

She was a dunmer, like Sanera herself. She had the usual grey skin though her eyes were a mix of red and violet rather than the typical crimson of their people. She had multiple piercings in both ears, and her sleek black hair was pinned back neatly into a twist. She had a hooked nose and full lips, and she met Sanera’s gaze without flinching - a rare feat these days. And there was something about her. Something that made Sanera certain that she was the one she was looking for. But sometimes it was best to ensure that the information delivered to her was accurate.

“Prisoner 614?” Sanera asked.

A nod.

“Born under the Ritual?”

Another nod.

“No known parentage?”

And another.

“I see.” Sanera turned to the guard. “I have business to discuss with the Emperor. For now, ensure she is treated well. The Emperor will find her of great interest.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And with that, Sanera returned to the palace and made her way to Uriel’s quarters. The ailing Emperor had risen from his bed as Sanera’s request and seated himself at an arm chair by the window overlooking the palace gardens below.

He certainly looked ill these days. His face was gaunt and his gaze was often distant, and his attention slipped too often for it to be under his own control. Age was catching up to him.

“Your Majesty, you recall our discussion of the Nerevarine Prophecy, its importance to the Empire’s continued security, and to our world’s future, yes?”

“Indeed, I recall,” he said, his voice hushed and soft as a servant poured some herbal tea. “And you have impressed the seriousness of the matter upon me many times in these last few months.”

“Indeed. It has come to my attention that a prisoner fulfilling the first trial of the prophecy has been brought to the Imperial City’s Prison as of last night. I’ve spoken with her, and confirmed that she so far has the appearance of the one who may fulfill this prophecy.”

“A prisoner born under a certain sign to uncertain parents,” Uriel murmured. “Yes, I recall. Most curious that she should be arrested at this critical time. But will she be willing to work on behalf of the Empire?”

“I have yet to determine that,” Sanera admitted. “I will speak with her further and broker a deal. Should she agree, do I have your authority to begin processing her for deportation?”

Uriel fell quiet, staring out of the window with a contemplative look on his face.

“You have my authority. Summon Glabrio so that I might have him scribe a report to Caius Cosades in Balmora - he will be responsible for her handling and training.”

Sanera frowned. “Training, sire?”

He nodded. “Yes. She will be inducted into the Blades as a Novice agent. If she is being sent on my authority, she will be bound to it until such a time that her task is complete.”

“Sire, with respect, is it wise to induct her? We cannot say whether she can be trusted-”

“Trust, my dear Sanera, is a fickle thing,” Uriel interrupted with a sigh. “Not something easily given, and something that can all too easily be broken. We have both lived long enough to know that. But as I have said, if she is to be sent on my authority, she will be bound to it. You act in my name, and I must act on the interests of the Empire. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good. Then see to it that she is processed quickly and ensure that Glabrio does not dawdle. Time is of the essence, and destiny does not wait for the cautious or the slow.”

_Many fall, but one remains._


	2. Arrival

A chilling curl of cold warped her insides as flashes of lightning filled her eyes, a distant land in a haze of red streaking through her mind. A presence, a figure with glowing eyes set in a golden mask, lurking in the distance, just out of sight. Choking ash and scorching winds tore over her, determined to throw her down to the ground and pummel her into the dust. Her lungs were raw, unable to allow the feeble pleas of ‘alma’ and ‘ata’ to leave her lips, shadows of people she didn’t even know.

Then it cleared. A warm presence seeped in through the chill and fear, like the warm embrace of a loving mother cradling her child. Her mind relaxed at the warmth as the disturbing figure retreated.

_ They have taken you from the Imperial City’s prison _ , a voice said.  _ First by carriage, and now by boat, to the East. To Morrowind. Fear not, for I am watchful. You have been chosen. Many fall, but one remains. _

Slowly, the warm presence retreated and the strange landscapes returned, closer this time and more coherent. Less frightening. Somewhere in the distance there was a crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder, but not the same as the others.

“Wake up,” a low, rough voice hissed. “We’re here. Why are you shaking? Are you okay? Wake up.”

Ash’s eyes flew open, the strange visions fading as the dimly lit hull of the ship came back into view. Bent over her was another dunmer, a man with many piercings and nothing more than a pair of trousers to wear. He was also missing an eye, with three long scars across the socket.

Ash would have sat up, but her body was struggling to respond. She was trying to remember the dream she had been having, but it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands. The details slipped away from her with every passing second, leaving her in a confused haze.

The other mer grasped her wrists and tugged her up onto her feet.

“Stand up,” he instructed. Once she was balanced, he released his grip. “There you go. You were dreaming.”

Ash said nothing, simply rubbing her wrists which were still cuffed together with chains. She glanced around, quickly reaffirming herself in reality. 

She was still in the tiny miserable little cabin the guards had shoved her into several days ago with the other mer, complete with the dim little lantern and moth-eaten blankets. The room bobbed up and down in time with the water, but they were no longer moving in any direction. They had arrived then.

“What’s your name?” asked the mer.

“...Ash,” she replied.

“That’s not your real name, though.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

The icy silence that followed was enough to tell him that she wasn’t about to tell him anyway.

“Well, not even last night’s storm could wake you,” he continued, glancing over his shoulder briefly. “I’ve heard them say that we’ve reached Morrowind. I’m sure they’ll let us go.”

As he said that, there was the loud thumping of armoured feet marching towards them. The lock of the door clicked and the door swung open, revealing an Imperial soldier standing there.

“This is where you get off,” the guard said gruffly, eyeing the two dunmer with disdain. He then pointed at Ash. “Come with me.”

Ash followed after him through the bowels of the ship and up onto the deck. They were moored at the most miserable little port town that Ash had ever seen, with a few small stone houses and not much else. Not even the rolling, lush jungle it was built on the fringes of could take away from the sheer ugliness of it. There was no way Cheydinhal drew its beautiful architecture from this slum. 

One of the guards above deck knocked Ash in the small of the back.

“Head down to the docks and they’ll show you to the Census Office,” he instructed, gesturing to another soldier waiting on the other end of the gangplank. As Ash stepped in front of him, he gestured for her to raise her hands. She did as she was told, and he unlocked the cuffs, freeing her.

“You’ve finally arrived. Our records tell us you came from Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil, yes?”

She nodded curtly, and followed him along the dock, which creaked and moaned with every step, and into the building on the other side. A little brass plaque on the door told her that it was called the ‘Seyda Neen Census and Excise Office’. She stepped inside.

More imperials awaited her inside, three in fact. Two were clearly guards, and the third was an old man in a long robe. He beckoned Ash over.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he said in a squeaky voice. “You’ll have to be recorded before you’re officially released.” He reached over to the desk where a stack of papers were arranged, took the top sheet and laid it out flat besides an inkwell with a quill balanced in it, ready for use.

“You’ll need to fill out your name, profession, date of birth etcetera,” he listed, sounding as though he’d said it a million times before (he likely had). “Oh, and it must be your legal name; aliases are not permitted for the census.”

He’d been informed of her preference ahead of her arrival then. No doubt that was Daryvarn’s doing.

Reluctantly, Ash pulled the empty document closer to her, took the readied quill, and scribbled out the required information, bent over the parchment so that no one could see what she was writing. When she was done, she set the quill aside and the Census officer took the document, looking it over for any mistakes.

It seemed to have passed the test, as he set it to one side before pulling out a scroll.

“Sign here, please. Then show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee.”

Ash did as she was told, then took the papers and proceeded through the door to her left.

The next room was empty, with only a dinner table that had been laid out and a bookshelf ladled with all sorts of fancy bottles and finery pushed against the right wall. Ash resisted the urge to grab anything and stuff it into her tunic. She was only just being released from prison, she didn’t need to get herself thrown back in immediately.

So she proceeded to the Captain’s office where he was waiting. He looked up as she entered and took her papers, reading them over.

“This all appears to be in order. Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday. I am Sellus Gravius. But my background is not important. I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

“Why was I brought here?” she asked coolly.

"I don't know,” he replied honestly. “All I know is that you were released from prison and shipped here. But the authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself. And I don't need to know any more than that. When you leave this office, you are a free woman. But before you go, I have instructions on your duties. Instructions from the Emperor. So pay careful attention."

He reached behind his desk, pulling out a travelling pack that appeared rather full and with a spear strapped to it. He placed it on the top of the desk, and Ash looked inside. Inside was a set of clothes, a purse with enough coins to get by for a short while, a few potions, a map, and a sealed package. In other words, enough for her to survive long enough until she got her bearings. Another bit of Daryvarn’s work.

"That package came with the news of your arrival,” Sellus explained. “You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub, and ask for Caius Cosades - they'll know where to find him. Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself."

“How do I get to Balmora?” Ash asked, slinging the pack over her shoulder.

"Balmora is north of Seyda Neen. The road passes Pelagiad and Fort Pelagiad, crosses a deep ravine, passes Fort Moonmoth, then turns west across the Odai River and into Balmora. The South Wall cornerclub is in southeast Balmora, on the east side of the river. For more detailed directions, talk to Elone the Scout at Arrille's Tradehouse here in Seyda Neen. But take my advice. You're new here. Take the silt strider to Balmora. Fast, cheap, safe. Cross the bridge and head east. Can't miss it."

[]

Once freed from the Census office, Ash quickly found a dark, deserted alleyway and pulled off her rags and dressed into her clothes - they were the same ones she had been wearing when she had been arrested. Good for travelling comfortably.

She took the spear from the pack. It was new, and of far better quality than the one she’d had before. Crafted from fine ebony with a black leather strap, it was a handsome weapon. Ash doubted she’d have been able to afford it no matter how many trinkets she could have pocketed. Perhaps it was a testament to Daryvarn’s faith in her. Or a reminder of the investment the Emperor was making by sending her to Vvardenfell.

Shouldering the pack and the spear, Ash set off out of Seyda Neen and quickly located the silt strider Sellus had directed her to. She’d read about the creatures in her books, but had never dreamed of seeing one up close before.

It was some sort of giant insect, with an armoured shell and long legs that were slim compared to its bulky body. In its back there was a hollow large enough for several people and their belongings to sit comfortably. Apparently, the hollow was natural. Or at least that was what the books said. Ash had learned a long time ago that books, whilst reliable, could not always be trusted.

The caravaner didn’t ask any questions beyond her destination, which cost her a small handful of gold pieces, and the silt strider set off. It was much faster than its size suggested, its long legs carrying it through the lush jungles surrounding Seyda Neen which quickly petered out into the ash lands that Morrowind was most famous for.

Ash sat quietly throughout the journey, writing the events of the past few days down in her journal, occasionally pausing to watch the landscape as it rolled by. This was Morrowind. She was really here, in the land of her people, her ancestors. It was hard to believe, really. All it took was getting caught mid-heist and being carted off to the Imperial Prison. Phinteas really must have hated her if he had been staking out his shop to catch her. Still, surely it was worth it to be here?

Eventually the jungles returned, lush and green and filled with exotic smells that she had never even dreamed of whilst in Cyrodiil and Balmora came into view. It was better than Seyda Neen - still a shit hole compared to Cheydinhal, but better than the tiny slum port.

The silt strider slowed to a stop so that a flight of steps waited right besides the hollow in its back. Another silt strider and its caravaner were waiting at the next station along, and the two caraveners exchanged a quick greeting.

“Balmora,” the caravaner announced.

“Thank you,” Ash replied, grabbing her belongings before clambering off of the silt strider’s back and making her way down to the street below. As she looked back, the silt strider had begun to make its way back towards Seyda Neen.

Ash pulled out her journal and quickly reviewed her information on Caius Cosades. To find him, she’d need to head for the South Wall Cornerclub on the eastern side of the river. Someone there would know where he was.

The river stunk to high heaven, reminding her all too strongly of the Imperial Waterfront. Balmora might have been a sight better than Seyda Neen, but it was still a backwater shit hole.

As she crossed to the other side of the river, keeping an eye out for the South Wall Cornerclub, she drew a few unsavory and suspicious glances. Seemed that the dunmer of Morrowind were as suspicious and unwelcoming of strangers as they were anywhere else.

The Cornerclub was a dingy little building with a narrow staircase leading down into the barroom where patrons of various different races were milling about or sat down, all neck deep in bottles of sujamma and mazte. An imperial man stood near the bar and waved her over when he caught sight of her.

"Good day. I'm Bacola Closcius, publican of the South Wall here in Balmora,” he greeted. “We rent beds, and I have a limited selection of goods for barter. If you're new here, I can also tell you where to look for other services, or a specific place nearby. If you're looking for someone in particular, I may be able to help."

“I’m looking for a man called Caius Cosades. I was told someone here could tell me where to find him.”

He raised an eyebrow. "Old Caius rents a little bed-and-basket just up the hill on the north edge of town. Go out the front door -  _ not _ the upper door to the terrace - then right up the stairs, then left at the top of the stairs and down to the end of the street. Just be careful - Balmora’s streets aren’t the safest."

A blind man could probably tell her that, but Ash simply thanked the man and headed back out of the Cornerclub and up onto the upper street. From there it was a straight line to the house at the very end. Another dingy little cobble house. Vvardenfell wasn’t exactly impressing her right now.

Ash knocked on the door cautiously.

“Who is it?”

“Caius Cosades?”

“That depends on who you are.”

“I was sent to report to you.”

“What?” The door opened, and standing there was an imperial man dressed in nothing but a pair of dark brown slacks. He was balding and had a rather impressive build for someone of his age. He eyed Ash suspiciously before beckoning her inside.

The hovel smelled strongly of moon sugar and skooma fumes, much to Ash’s discomfort. Her own experiences with the sweet drug in her youth had been… unpleasant to say the least. She’d steered clear of it as a result.

Caius closed the door behind him and slid the bolt across to prevent any intrusions. He then looked around at Ash, who was resisting the urge to slip a silver goblet from the table and into her pack.

"I am Caius Cosades," he said, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Now who are you? And what do you mean, you were told to report to me? Who sent you?”

Ash reached into her pack, pulling out the package given to her by Sellus.

“According to the Census officer, it was the Emperor himself,” she replied dryly, holding out the package. Caius took it, still eying her suspiciously as he pulled a letter out from the package. He read it over, his brow furrowing.

“I see. So your name is-”

“Ash.”

He raised an eyebrow, but the icy glare she gave him was enough to quell any questioning.

“Very well, Ash. So. It says here the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades. And that means you'll be following my orders.” He gave her an appraising look. “Are you ready to follow my orders, Ash? Are you ready to join the Blades, as the Emperor commands?"

She folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll uphold my end of the bargain. Just tell me what needs doing.”

"Good. Welcome to the service, Novice. Now you belong to the Blades. We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces. You can use my bed if you need to rest, but leave my personal stuff alone unless I say otherwise. If you like, you can improve your modest skills with our Blades Trainers now. Or -"

He was cut off dead as the tip of a spear pressed against his  throat, ready to end him with a single flick, and Ash met his eyes with a cold stare right at him.

“I think you’ll find my skills to be more than adequate,” she said coolly. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

She then lowered the spear, shouldering it once more as Caius quickly processed what had just happened and gave her a very disapproving look.

“Hmph, you have nerve, I’ll give you that. But we have rules; do not steal from another of the Blades, and do not kill them unless instructed otherwise,” he said coldly. “I’ll let you off for that. Just once.”

“How kind,” she snorted. “Now, your orders?”

"First thing. You're new. And you look it. Here's 200 drakes,” Caius said tersely, tossing her a bag of gold coins. “Go get yourself another weapon - a spear only will get you so far. Or maybe some armor. Or a spell. And second thing... you need a cover identity. Around here, 'freelance adventurer' is a common profession. Sign on with the Fighters Guild, or Mages Guild, or Imperial Cult, or Imperial legion, advance in the ranks, gain skill and experience. Or go out on your own, look for freelance work, or trouble. Then, when you're ready, come back, and I'll have orders for you."

He then took the package under his arm and retreated to his seat by the table, taking up his skooma pipe and lighting it. Ash slipped out of the hovel before she could be tempted by the sweet smoke, and set off, contemplating on what to do whilst she waited for Caius’ orders.

Joining a guild or the legion was not an option. She’d not gotten on with either particularly well in the past, and she had the feeling that it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Exploring was a far more tempting offer, however, and if she earned a few coins, pilfered a few ruins and made a name for herself as an adventurer, then it would be a good way to spend her time.

And there was one particular marvel she had heard much about during her time in Cyrodiil that she was quite eager to see. She pulled out her map and quickly studied the best route. It was a week there and a week back on foot from Balmora, but taking a silt strider to Ald'ruhn would save a significant amount of time. Provided the caravaner in Balmora headed out that way.

So Ash hurried back through Balmora (keeping a close eye on her pockets) and quickly found the local caravaner and his silt strider.

“Greetings Outlander. Selvil Sareloth, at your service,” he greeted, offering a hand. Ash took it cautiously. “I'm Balmora's caravaner. Tell me your destination, and I'll tell you if I can help you."

“Where does this silt strider go?”

"I can get you from Balmora to Ald'ruhn, Suran, Vivec, or Seyda Neen."

“I need to get to Ald’ruhn.”

“Very well. That’ll be eighteen drakes please.”

Ash counted out the coins and handed them over to Selvil before climbing aboard, pulling out her journal to scribble in a few new notes. Once she was done and the silt strider was on the move, she reached into her pack and, to her surprise, found a copy of  _ The Real Barenziah Volume I _ , one of her favourite books. If Daryvarn had known, Ash had no idea how. She’d not mentioned it and it hadn’t been on her person at the time of her arrest. She knew that dunmer gave her the creeps for a reason.

But it was something good to read, so Ash settled herself against her pack and flipped open to the first page.


	3. Julan Kaushibael

The ashstorms kicked up not far from Ald’ruhn and nearly blindsighted Ash in minutes. She forced her hood up and shielded her face as best she could from the raw, stinging gale force winds, which didn’t go unnoticed by Selvil who passed her a cloth to cover her nose and mouth with.

“When we get to Ald’ruhn, do yourself a favour and go to Bivale Teneran’s shop in the manor district,” he called over the storm. “She can set you up with some gear to protect you from the ash.”

Ash gave a rough nod of her head, not trusting to open her mouth for fear of swallowing more ash and dust. Her lungs were already complaining.

Soon enough, Ald’ruhn came into view. According to Selvil, House Redoran governed the town and the House’s councillors all made their homes in the manor district which was, to Ash’s surprise, a large domed building at the centre of the town.

In fact, Redoran architecture was remarkably distinctive - their buildings had no windows and resembled large armoured bug shells carved from stone with doors set in them. Outside of the strange buildings, market stalls were arranged with canvas coverings, though right now it looked like all of the merchants were just trying to keep their goods from flying away. Ordinators in their golden masks patrolled the streets, though even they were struggling not to be blown down. Ash almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Finally, the silt strider came to a halt at its station and Selvil made sure Ash climbed out safely - apparently it wasn’t uncommon for people to lose their balance and fall to the ground. If they were lucky it was over quickly. If not they had better hope the healers could fix them up or at least ease the pain.

Once safely back on the ground, Ash battled her way up towards the manor district, still clutching Selvil’s cloth to her face until she finally got inside.

Once again, Ash was somewhat baffled by the strange architectural choices of House Redoran. The council hall had looked low slung, too low for actual manors at any rate, but now she was inside, she could see exactly how the Redoran’s constructed their buildings. Rather than build up, they built down into the earth. The ground had been cleared out deeply so the central chamber was a sort of spherical shape with the doors to various parts of the district set about halfway up. Wooden rope bridges connected them together, and there were even shops in the lower half of the chamber. It was actually a rather ingenious method of conserving space above ground without everything being too close together.

After asking a guard for directions, Ash headed for Bivale’s shop.

Bivale was a dunmer clothier and somehow immediately knew what Ash was looking for.

“First ash storm?” she asked briskly, sweeping towards the back of the shop. “I can always tell. Selvil sent you my way?”

Ash nodded.

“Good, good. Now let’s see… Ah yes, here we are.” She pulled a case off of the shelf and set it down on the counter, and Ash approached. Bivale opened the case, revealing a scarf and a set of goggles. “Try them on, see how they fit.”

Ash did as she was told, slipping the goggles over her eyes. They were a bit loose, so Bivale tightened the straps.

“There we go, a perfect fit.”

“How much?” Ash asked, pushing the goggles up onto her forehead.

“One hundred and twenty drakes for the goggles. Thirty drakes for the scarf.”

It was a lot of money, and most of what Caius had given her, along with what she had gotten as a release fee. But if she was living on Vvardenfell from now on, then it’d be an investment that would pay off in the long run. And she could always make coin before returning to Balmora. She wasn’t completely dependent.

So she counted out the gold and handed it over, took the scarf and departed. Feeling somewhat better prepared, she headed back out into the storm, tugging her goggles over her eyes and her scarf over the lower half of her face before stepping out of the door.

With half the battle won, Ash headed east out of town, pack over her back and spear in hand ready as a precaution. She’d seen plenty of Cyrodiil’s wildlife, from its trolls and dire wolves to its minotaurs and imps, but Morrowind’s wildlife was something of an unknown. She’d heard of guars and nix-hounds and cliff racers, but none of her books told her how to fight any of them. It was definitely a learning curve, though hopefully not a steep one. Usually just stabbing something was enough to kill it.

Ash’s point of interest lay at the bottom of the slopes of the Red Mountain - the Ghostgate. She’d heard many stories about it from travellers in Cheydinhal who described it and the arcane Ghostfence as otherworldly, which was only fitting as it was a work of the Living Gods of the Tribunal.

In time, she came to the valley that led to the Ghostgate. It was a journey within itself, with the various daedric ruins that dotted the landscape which were crawling with scamps and the occasional clannfear. They were no real trouble though, with Ash making use of hit-and-run tactics. A fireball to startle them and a slash of her spear before she darted out of sight. Any surviving daedra were still dazed and confused, and it was all too easy for Ash to slip away without so much as a scratch. She didn’t fancy being mobbed by daedra, after all.

Finally, the tall ghostly veil of the Ghostfence came into view just as the worst of the storm fettered away, allowing Ash to pull down her scarf and push her goggles onto her forehead to get a better look at the fence. It was strange and ethereal, fluttering within its massive frame. Apparently once it had been near opaque and you couldn’t hope to see a thing through it. These days, it was becoming increasingly clear that its power was weakening.

That was when the Ghostgate appeared, but there was no time to marvel. An explosion of flame caught her attention and she quickly caught sight of the cause. 

A dunmer was in the middle of a very intense fight with three clannfear, and it seemed that he was losing. One of the clannfear leapt at him and he barely raised his shield in time as he was knocked down onto his back, the clannfear pinning him in place as the other two began tearing at his legs.

Ash raised a hand and a fireball leapt from her fingertips, throwing the clannfear off of the other mer and drawing the attention of the other two. Taking advantage of the distraction, the dunmer grabbed his shield and brought it down hard on one of the clannfear’s neck, breaking it. But there were still two others, and they weren’t done yet.

Grabbing her spear, Ash darted forwards, skewering the clannfear closest to her before throwing another fireball at the already scorched clannfear. It howled in pain and a quick slash of its throat ended its suffering quickly.

Ash turned to the other mer, who had collapsed back into the dirt, clutching his wounded legs. He looked to be about her age, if not a couple of years younger, with dark hair that nearly reached his shoulders, and bright crimson eyes. He was bloodied, bruised and thoroughly dirty as well, and it seemed not all of it had been from his fight with the clannfear.

He finally looked up at Ash, though he didn’t look the slightest bit grateful - if anything, he looked indignant. No surprises there.

“What do you want, outlander?” he growled between pants. “You expect me to thank you for your help with those clannfears? I never asked for it. I had everything under control.”

“If you were looking to become a buffet then yes. You had it all under control,” Ash replied flatly, crossing her arms.

His scowl deepened. “I was quite capable of dealing with them by myself. You didn’t have to interrupt-!” He coughed hard and a good deal of blood dribbled onto his lips. 

“And if I hadn’t, they would have been three seconds away from killing you,” Ash said dryly, drawing closer and shouldering her spear.

“Hah! I was just… playing with them... to train my skills! But you had to come rushing in to play the hero, didn’t you? Typical outlander,” he spat, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Next time, keep out of what doesn’t concern you.”

“And next time will you say ‘typical outlander’ for leaving you to die?” Ash retorted coolly, turning away. “But then I’m sure you won’t want me to heal you so that you can train your skills in bleeding to death.”

“I’m fine!” He snapped. “It’s just scratches… oh. Gods, that’s more blood than I-” He coughed hard again and Ash paused, keeping her back to him. “Ah, Sheogorath, my legs… I can’t…” He groaned.

“No, no. I can see that you don’t need any assistance,” Ash continued coolly, continuing down the path. “I’ll let you carry on with your training. I’m sure some more daedra will be along any minute.”

“Wait!” She paused, but still didn’t turn around. “Alright… It’s possible… that I could maybe… possibly… by some chance, need some help.”

It sounded like it had been very painful for him to say that.

“Possible?”

He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. About everything. You saved my life back there, but unless I get healing…” He paused. “I’ve run out of potions, magicka… Most things actually,” he mumbled.

Finally, Ash turned back and made her way over, kneeling down next to him. 

“Just hold still and let me work,” she said shortly, inspecting the wounds.

In truth, they really were just scratches, just deep ones. It didn’t seem that the daedra had severed anything important, so it was a chance of getting the wounds to close properly.

Concentrating her magicka carefully, Ash channelled her healing magic into the wound that was bleeding most and went from there, carefully closing each of them until the dunmer was relatively intact. When she was done, she offered him a hand and pulled him back to his feet.

“Gods, that’s better,” he sighed. “I feel much less daedra-eaten now. Thank you. This whole thing is… very embarrassing. I’m trying to become a strong warrior, but I guess I still have a long way to go.”

Ordinarily, Ash wouldn’t have asked, but Morrowind was very different from Cyrodiil, and her curiosity got the better of her.

“Why are you trying to become a strong warrior?”

“I’m supposed to be a great warrior. It’s expected of me,” he said simply. “But I spend all my time training, and I’m obviously still not good enough.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “What would my tribe think of me if they knew I had been rescued by an outlander? An  _ outlander _ for Azura’s sake!” He paused, registered the unimpressed look on Ash’s face, and then added, “no offense, but it just looks bad.”

“I doubt they’d be any more impressed if you got eaten by three clannfear,” she said dryly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t understand… but how could you? You don’t know who I am, or what I do, or why…”

“Try me,” Ash challenged, crossing her arms.

“It’s not that simple. It’s not something I’m free to discuss, and certainly not with outlanders. All I will say is that I have a sacred mission I need to carry out within the Ghostfence on behalf of my tribe… and others. But I’ve been training here for a week now, and I can’t even deal with the creatures on  _ this _ side of the fence,” he said frustratedly, scowling.

Ash frowned. “If it’s a  _ sacred _ mission, aren’t the Gods or the Daedra or… whoever, protecting you?”

“Hah, that’s what my mother says. She has such powerful faith, in her gods… in me. That’s why I have to succeed. I can’t stand the thought of disappointing her,” he said glumly. “But I’m not sure I share her faith. Maybe that’s my problem.”

Neither of them said anything for a while until Ash looked up at the Ghostfence. The worst of the ashstorm swelled up behind it, trapped by the magical barrier, though that didn’t stop some meagre wind and dust from escaping. And the other mer obviously caught notice of her interest.

“Have you ever been inside the Ghostfence before?” he asked. “You seem fairly strong.”

“No, this is my first time seeing it,” she confessed. “I only got to Vvardenfell a few days ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A few days, really? Well… would you ever go inside?”

“If I had a reason to,” she said shortly. “Why?”

He suddenly looked down at his feet, digging at his fingernails. “Well, you’re strong enough to deal with those ash monsters, or you soon will be… I wonder…” He shook his head. “No, forget it. I have no reason to trust you.”

“I just saved your life and healed your wounds,” Ash pointed out. “And I haven’t demanded your eternal servitude for it, have I?”

“That’s true,” he laughed, a grin tugging at his lips. “But how do I know that your motives are… Gah! I can’t keep thinking like this! I have to do something!” He took a long, deep breath and looked directly at Ash. “Would you please consider training me?”

Ash stared at him, gobsmacked as her mind slowly realised exactly what it was that he was asking.

“I- What?!”

“If my people knew, they would be horrified,” he confessed. “But I can’t see any other way. I’m just not getting anywhere, training by myself like this. I need guidance, and you seem capable. Outlander or not, you’re the only person I’ve met so far who’s helped me, and perhaps that means something.”

“I don’t-”

“And it’s not as if I’d be a useless companion,” he interrupted. “I can fight, cast a few spells, and generally look after myself. I wouldn’t be a burden to you, I could be a useful ally.”

“But I-!”

“I can levitate, breathe in water and heal myself - provided I have enough magicka of course,” he went on with a nervous laugh. “I’m also a fast runner, and I can repair your gear too if I have the right tools, and-! Gah, I’m an idiot. I still haven’t introduced myself! I’m Julan Kaushibael of the Ahemmusa tribe. Well, sort of. I’m actually an outcast, but… well, it’s complicated. So what do you say, think we’d make a good team?”

Ash stood there, completely flabbergasted. Everything he had said did actually sound quite useful, and to have someone around who knew the island couldn’t hurt but… Training him? She was no teacher, never had been. Perhaps she could keep him from getting himself killed, but teaching him valuable information? That was something else…

But she was the stranger in this land. She didn’t know it very well, and wouldn’t deny that she needed someone who could teach her about the land and how to survive it. Books only got one so far.

She sighed. “Alright. If you teach me more about Morrowind, I’ll try to train you. Deal?”

He grinned. “Great. I have to admit, it was getting kinda lonely hanging around here by myself. But, I’ll admit, I don’t know Vvardenfell very well. In fact, I think this is the farthest I’ve ever been from home up until now.”

“But you know what kind of creatures we might end up dealing with?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Then that’s good enough for me.” She extended a hand. “Ash.”

He frowned. “What, from the…? Is this an outlander custom or something?”

“It’s my name, you s’wit.”

“Oh. Wait, really? That doesn’t sound like a name.”

“It’s what people call me, so it’s a name,” she said flatly, moving to withdraw her hand.

“Okay, okay,” Julan said hurriedly, quickly shaking it. “It’s a name… but it’s not your real one is it?”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

He raised his hands in self defense. “Alright, alright… But… look… since we’re here, can we try going within the Ghostfence? Not far, just inside the gate. I  _ have _ to get used to it, I just have to.”

Ash glanced up at the gate, the billowing storm still swelling against the fence. Honestly, she was curious to see beyond it, even just a little. Damn her curiosity.

“Alright. Just be ready for anything.”

Julan nodded and grabbed his gear, which included a pair of goggles that had been knocked from his head. They both readied themselves before Ash pressed the switch in the stone pillar, causing the outer portcullis to open.

They entered the passage leading through the gate to the other side of the fence. About halfway, just before the second switch, Ash felt herself passing through the arcane barrier. It was pure magicka, and it resonated with the magicka in her blood.

The inner portcullis leading into the Red Mountain region opened and they stepped through.

The air was roar and hot, and hearing anything over the roaring wind would be a sheer miracle. Compared to this, the ashstorm in Ald’ruhn was a mild summer breeze. Everything had a red tinge to it, like looking through a scarlet filter, and it was impossible to see further than a foot in front of you.

“Come on,” Ash called, making her way up the rise. “I just want to get a better look.”

Julan followed a few steps then stopped, hands going over his ears.

“Julan?”

“I… I’m sorry. I thought I was ready for this, but it’s so… I know I have to come here, but I just can’t! Not yet, not now!” he called desperately, suddenly looking terrified out of his wits. “Please, let me cast Almsivi Intervention and teleport us both out of here! Please, my head is… I can’t…!”

Ash frowned, looking back up the mountain. She had really wanted to see more, but she couldn’t exactly just leave him alone in his current state. Not after what had happened last time.

So she walked back down the rise to Julan, knocking him on the arm to get his attention.

“Let’s get out of here,” she shouted over the wind.

For the first time since they had met, he looked genuinely grateful and held out a hand. She took it, somewhat hesitantly, before he cast his spell and they were whisked away from the Red Mountain.

[]

When their feet hit the ground again, they were standing outside of a building in Ald’ruhn. It looked like it might be a temple, though Ash couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t read the daedric script on the sign, after all.

She looked back around at Julan, who seemed to be recovering from his panic on the mountain side. Frankly, he looked like he was slowly becoming more embarrassed now they were away from the Ghostgate.

Finally, he looked up at Ash and said: “I… I’m sorry for what happened back there. Gods, you must think I’m an utter coward. But I swear this to you: I am a warrior. I’ve never ran from a fight, and I have no fear of death. I’m not afraid of the ash monsters on Red Mountain, it’s something else… to do with these weird dreams I’ve been having...”

“What kind of dreams?”

“I often dream that I’m climbing Red Mountain, and it’s dark, and the air is full of ash, getting into my eyes and mouth, and it gets harder and harder to keep moving. And there are all these voices surrounding me, whispering things…” he trailed off, suddenly finding the lace of his bracer very interesting.

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t know, I can’t understand what they’re saying. But they sound… uh… not good. I mean, you’ve heard of Dagoth Ur, right?” The brief pause said otherwise. “The Devil who lives under Red Mountain? Who is supposed to make people go insane by sending them dreams? Even an outlander must know who he is?!”

Ash shook her head, and Julan simply looked baffled.

“So, you think Dagoth Ur is trying to drive you crazy with these dreams? Everyone has weird dreams sometimes, it doesn’t mean that they mean anything,” she said, shrugging.

“Well… Dagoth Ur is a powerful figure in our history and legends, so lots of people must dream about him,” Julan said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m certainly not insane, and I’m not planning to be!”

“So… why do your dreams bother you so much that you didn’t want to walk up Red Mountain?”

“They aren’t!” he snapped before he quickly amended himself. “I mean, they won’t. I know it doesn’t make sense, just give me a little more time. Please. Maybe we could start my training so I can take my mind off of things?”

“Sure. And I think our best option is to start by finding work,” said Ash, pulling her goggles back on.

“Work? Why?” Julan asked, confused as he followed her away from the temple.

“One, it’s a good way to get gold for supplies and gear. And two, find the right kind of work and you’ll get to practice your hand at fighting different types of enemies,” Ash explained.

“So… mercenary work?”

“Basically. No better trainer than experience. And I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself eaten.”

“Hmph, thanks.”


	4. First Order

Ash and Julan spent several days in and around Ald’ruhn, taking whatever jobs came their way before returning to Balmora with fuller coin purses and a few bumps and bruises. They’d tracked down some reavers who had been making trouble, retrieved someone’s lost family heirloom, dealt with some cliff racers that were becoming a nuisance and so on and so forth. By the end of it, Ash was happy to get moving again. Surely Caius had some orders for her by now, it had been just over a week after all.

There had, of course, been moments when Ash had felt extremely homesick. She had no family and no friends in Cheydinhal, but it had been home. She had slept in the upper floors of the old abandoned house, despite the various rumours about the place being haunted or in use by the Dark Brotherhood. If they were ever there, they never paid Ash much mind, and they certainly hadn’t touched her hidden trove of books, so it hardly bothered her.

She still missed the city, with its lake and violet rooftops. She even missed the chapel, even though she was not particularly religious. Whenever she was injured or ill as a child, the priests were always kind and fixed her up in exchange for nothing but a thank you. She missed the familiar faces and the smells and the food and even the ancient, damp mattress she curled up on at night. Trying to adjust, knowing she’d be without those things for what was likely to be the rest of her life just caused a horrible anxious feeling to sit in her stomach like a weight.

Not that she told Julan any of these things. He had his secrets, and she had hers. Besides, once he had fulfilled this mission of his, they would part ways and that would be that. There was no point in sharing what didn’t need to be shared.

As the silt strider made its way south to backwater Balmora, Ash sat scribbling in her journal, ensuring everything was up-to-date. It had been quite a busy (and profitable) first week after all. It was always good to keep note of what had happened, just in case she needed to refer back to anything. Dealings, information, people etcetera.

Julan meanwhile was watching the countryside go by. He had started the trip by silt strider as rather excited, considering he’d not ridden one before. But by now, he was just getting bored of sitting there and waiting to reach Balmora.

Luckily, he wasn’t waiting much longer as the town finally appeared amongst the jungle trees and the two dunmer climbed off, thanking Selvil for the ride before heading over to Caius’ place. Ash knocked on the door and there was a click of a bolt before the door opened.

“Ah, there you are. I-” He paused, having caught sight of Julan and frowned. “This matter is private. Have your friend wait elsewhere. Then I’ll tell you what needs to be done.”

Ash glanced back at Julan, who was scowling at the imperial man. She really wasn’t much liking Caius either right now, but she knew that if it was work for the Emperor, Julan wouldn’t approve.

“I’ll wait at the South Wall Cornerclub then,” Julan said stiffly, giving Ash a curt nod before marching off down the street. Once he was out of sight, Ash stepped inside and Caius locked the door behind her.

“An Ashlander?” he commented, raising an eyebrow.

“He wants me to train him. I didn’t think there was any harm in bringing him along,” Ash replied coolly, crossing his arms.

“Provided that the purpose of your work remains strictly confidential, then you could bring Almalexia herself along with you,” Caius grunted.

“I doubt I could hide it quite so easily from a Living Goddess.”

“Perhaps. I don’t care what you tell your friend about the purpose of your work on my behalf, but it must remain confidential. The balance of power is delicate enough as it is. But before we get to that, we need to know precisely what it is we’re dealing with. Unfortunately, even the Emperor’s top agents know very little, so I need you to start gathering information.”

“On what, exactly?”

“Go talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild, across the river. Ask him what he knows about the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House cult,” he instructed. “You'll have to do him a favor first. Probably an ugly favor. But do it. Then get the information from Antabolis and report back to me.”

Ash made to turn away when Caius called her back.

“By the way... Hasphat is a student of Morrowind history. Take the chance to get a little education. And I have a few history books in here. Help yourself. You're welcome to them. No point in being part of history if you're too ignorant to understand it."

He gestured to a stack of books on the table and Ash stared at them for a second. No one in her entire life had just _offered_ her to take a book. Or at least to borrow them. She looked back at Caius, seeking confirmation that she really was allowed to take them, and he nodded, barely restraining a smirk as she scooped them into her arms and tucked them carefully into her pack.

“I thought you might like those. Now get going. Speak with Hasphat and learn whatever he knows about the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House cult,” he ordered.

As Ash left the house, she decided that maybe Caius wasn’t really all that bad. _Maybe_. If he kept giving her books though, he might well end up being her favourite person.

But before she could head off to speak with Hasphat, she had to find Julan over at the South Wall Cornerclub. Hopefully he’d managed not to cause any trouble whilst he was there. Somehow she doubted it.

Ash found Julan down in the barroom, and whilst it was clear he’d not started any fights, the fact he was swaying dangerously on the spot was enough to tell her that he was very much drunk. She hadn’t even left him alone for ten minutes. Gods, why did she agree to help him?

“Julan?” she called, squeezing past an altmer woman to reach him at the bar.

Julan looked up at her blearily, as though struggling to recall who she was for a second, before he smiled drunkenly.

“Ash! Good to see ‘ou… Wait… no… oh righ’, I was _mad_ at you for… what… was it…? I forget… after the fifth mazte... Oh, righ’, you sent me away!” he slurred. “Your imperial frien’ won’t say nothin’ in fron’ o’ me… You made me go…”

“Alright, that’s enough for one day,” she said firmly, reaching to take the bottle of mazte from his hand, but he simply raised it up, accidently slopping most of it down her front and onto the floor. Ash took a deep breath. It was an accident, he hadn’t meant to, _don’t_ hit him.

“Sorry,” he bumbled. “I didn’ mean ‘o.”

“It’s fine,” she said through gritted teeth, snatching the now half empty bottle from his hand before the rest of its contents could end up on her clothes. Several people were turning to watch now, much to her embarrassment. “Let’s just-”

Suddenly, she was being engulfed in a very drunken hug by Julan and she froze.

“Your so nice… even when I spilled mazte all down you… I’m sorry…” he mumbled, sagging against her shoulder.

Pulling herself together, Ash awkwardly patted his shoulder and eased him away.

“It’s okay, let’s just go anywhere but here,” she said, trying to hide her slowly flushing face as people watched, whispered and giggled as Ash half-led half-hauled Julan out of the bar and up the stairs with Bacola hurrying over to help.

“Thanks,” Ash grunted as she and Bacola hauled Julan up the stairs and into a vacant bedroom. Once he was laid down, Ash fished for a few coins in her purse and handed them over.

“Do you need a change of clothes whilst you wash yours?” Bacola asked politely, gesturing at the damp stains of spilt mazte.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she insisted, closing the door.

The room wasn’t particularly big and only had the one bed, an armoire and a small armchair stuffed in the corner. Well she knew where she was sleeping tonight. At least to make sure Julan didn’t choke on his own vomit, though after that display, it was tempting to let him.

“Stupid s’wit,” she grumbled, peeling off her sodden shirt once she was certain he was asleep. She tossed a blanket over him just to be safe. He didn’t seem to be a lech, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Luckily, a lifetime of looking after herself had taught Ash how to be resourceful, and how to use her magic in practical, everyday situations. A couple of spells and the mazte was gone, along with the lingering stink of alcohol, save for Julan who was currently snoring beneath the blanket.

Ash shook her head and sighed as she pulled her shirt back on before settling down in the armchair, pulling out one of the books that Caius had given to her. If she had to wait for him to sleep the alcohol off, she might as well do something productive about it.

It was heavy and bound in brown leather, with the title and author embossed in peeling gold letters.

_A Short History of Morrowind, Jeanette Sitte_

_Led by the legendary prophet Veloth, the ancestors of the Dunmer, exiles from Altmer cultures in present-day Summerset Isle, came to the region of Morrowind. In earliest times the Dunmer were harassed or dominated by Nord sea raiders. When the scattered Dunmer tribes consolidated into the predecessors of the modern Great House clans, they threw out the Nord oppressors and successfully resisted further incursions._

_The ancient ancestor worship of the tribes was in time superseded by the monolithic Tribunal Temple theocracy, and the Dunmer grew into a great nation called Resdayn. Resdayn was the last of the provinces to submit to Tiber Septim; like Black Marsh, it was never successfully invaded, and was peacefully incorporated by treaty into the Empire as the Province of Morrowind._

_Almost four centuries after the coming of the Imperial Legions, Morrowind is still occupied by Imperial legions, with a figurehead Imperial King, though the Empire has reserved most functions of the traditional local government to the Ruling Councils of the Five Great Houses._

_On Vvardenfell District_

_In 3E 414, Vvardenfell Territory, previously a Temple preserved under Imperial protection and Ordinator laws, was reorganized as an Imperial Provincial District. Vvardenfell had been maintained as a preserve administrated by the Temple since the Treaty of the Armistice, and except for a few Great House settlements sanctioned by the Temple, Vvardenfell was previously uninhabited and undeveloped. But when the centuries-old Temple ban on trade and settlement of Vvardenfell was revoked by King of Morrowind, a flood of Imperial colonists and Great House Dunmer came to Vvardenfell, expanding old settlements and building new ones._

_The new District was divided into Redoran, Hlaalu, Telvanni, and Temple Districts, each separately administered by local House Councils or Temple Priesthoods, and all under the advice and consent of Duke Dren and the District Council in Ebonheart. Local law became a mixture of House Law and Imperial Law in House Districts, jointly enforced by House guards and Legion guards, with Temple law and Imperial law enforced in the Temple district by Ordinators. The Temple was still recognized as the majority religion, but worship of the Nine Divines was protected by the legions and encouraged by Imperial cult missions._

_The Temple District included the city of Vivec, the fortress of Ghostgate, and all sacred and profane sites (including those Blighted areas inside the Ghostfence) and all unsettled and wilderness areas on Vvardenfell. In practice, this district included all parts of Vvardenfell not claimed for Redoran, Hlaalu, or Telvanni Districts. The Temple stubbornly fought all development in their district, and were largely successful._

_House Hlaalu in combination with Imperial colonists embarked on a vigorous campaign of settlement and development. In the decades after reorganization, Balmora and the Ascadian Isles regions have grown steadily. Caldera and Pelagiad are completely new settlements, and all legion forts were expanded to accommodate larger garrisons._

_House Telvanni, normally conservative and isolationist, has been surprisingly aggressive in expanding beyond their traditional tower villages. Disregarding the protests of the other Houses, the Temple, the Duke, and the District council, Telvanni pioneers have been encroaching on the wild lands reserved to the Temple. The Telvanni council officially disavows responsibility for these rogue Telvanni settlements, but it is an open secret that they are encouraged and supported by ambitious Telvanni mage-lords._

_Under pressure from the Temple, conservative House Redoran has steadfastly resisted expansion in their district. As a result, House Redoran and the Temple are in danger of being politically and economically marginalized by the more aggressive and expansionist Hlaalu and Telvanni interests._

_The Imperial administration faces many challenges in the Vvardenfell district, but the most serious are the Great House rivalries, animosity from the Ashlander nomads, internal conflicts within the Temple itself, and the Red Mountain blight. Struggles between Great House, Temple, and Imperial interests to control Vvardenfell's resource could at any time erupt into full-scale war. Ashlanders raid settlements, plunder caravans, and kill foreigners on their wild lands. The Temple has unsuccessfully attempted to silence criticism and calls for reform within its ranks._

_But most serious are the plagues and diseased hosts produced by the blight storms sweeping out from Red Mountain. Vvardenfell and all Morrowind have long been menaced by the legendary evils of Dagoth Ur and his ash vampire kin dwelling beneath Red Mountain. For centuries the Temple has contained this threat within the Ghostfence. But recently the Temple's resources and will have faltered, and the threat from Red Mountain has grown in scale and intensity. If the Ghostfence should fail, and hosts of blighted monsters were to spill out across Vvardenfell's towns and villages, the Empire might have no choice but to evacuate Vvardenfell district and abandon it to disease and corruption._

That sounded rather dire. And if what little information Daryvarn had been at liberty to give, then this mission Ash had been sent on was to prevent the Empire from having to abandon Vvardenfell. Quite the challenge. But it had been in exchange for her freedom, so she was in no position to complain about the task.

Ash turned to inspect the other books in her pack and settled to read as night settled in, the candles burning lower and lower as the hours crawled by until she dozed off, fingers curled loosely around the cover of _The Real Barenziah Volume I_.

[]

The next morning, Ash awoke, aware that someone had laid a blanket over her whilst she had been sleeping. She frowned, looking around. Her books had been stacked neatly on the floor beside her pack, and Julan was quite gone. She frowned, sitting upright and shaking off her sleepiness, the blanket slipping off of her lap and into a pile on the floor just as the door to the room opened and Julan slipped inside with a tray of food and mugs of what, thankfully, turned out to be water.

“I uh, think I must have owed you last night,” he said awkwardly, setting the tray down. “That imperial, Bacola, told me what happened… Sorry.”

“I’ve put up with far worse, and from far more sober people…” Ash muttered. “Just… try not to go overboard in future.”

He nodded sheepishly and offered Ash a bowl. She took it and inspected the contents, considering that she was still growing used to Morrowind cuisine. It was a porridge made from what Julan called saltrice and scuttle. It didn’t taste bad, but she was still adjusting to the change in food. Cyrodiil’s selection was indeed very different. A lot of their food didn’t come from bugs after all.

“So, what’s the plan?” Julan asked, sitting on the bed as he ate.

“I need to speak with Hasphat Antabolis at the Fighter’s Guild. The old guy wants some information for some reason,” Ash said evasively.

“On what?”

“Something called the Nerevarine Cult and the Sixth House Cult. He didn’t say why, just said it was important. He’s… eccentric, to say the least.”

Julan frowned, clearly still suspicious, but he said nothing and continued eating instead. Then a few moments later he stopped again, sighed and set his bowl down.

“Tell me something, honestly… Do I see like a complete savage to you?” he asked, not quite meeting her eye.

Ash looked up at him, frowning slightly.

“I know how people view Ashlanders - violent, uncivilised barbarian tribes, living in filth and squalor, obsessed with ancient superstitions,” he went on. “You settled types with your luxurious lifestyles-” Ash’s lips pressed into a thin line. “-you can’t understand why we might _choose_ to live as we do, so you think we must be ignorant savages. But we are proud of our culture. We have things more valuable than the tasteless displays of wealth you get in cities like this and Ald’ruhn.”

“Well if I, the privileged settler, accumulate enough wealth to know how it feels to have a luxurious lifestyle with tasteless displays of wealth, I promise I won’t suddenly start thinking of you and your people as thoughtless savages,” Ash replied dryly. “But I suppose having little teaches you to appreciate the important things. Like being able to eat every day.”

Julan looked over at her curiously, eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that there are plenty of settled folk I’ve met who can barely scrounge together enough coin to keep a roof over their heads, let alone much else,” she replied flatly, if not somewhat evasively. “But back to your original question: no, I don’t think you and your people are savages for choosing to live the way you do. That’s your choice, so why does anyone else’s opinion matter?”

“Exactly,” said Julan, grinning. “You’re more open-minded than most people - perhaps because you’re an outlander. Strange, you seem to understand it better than most native dunmer! But your view is rare, my people are viewed with suspicion in cities. And although I’m proud of my heritage, my mission must be kept secret, and… I’m worried I might look a bit conspicuous. What do you think?”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Wear whatever you like. But if you’re that concerned, we can head to the armourer and see if they have any decent gear for sale.”

“Hm, perhaps that would be a good idea. Also, tell me… is it normal practice to remove armour in cities?” At Ash’s incredulous look, he continued, “look I have no idea about these things! I don’t know what’s considered appropriate or offensive or…”

“Okay, general rule of thumb: don’t walk around naked, and certainly don’t remove your clothes in public,” Ash said sternly. “We tend to only change clothes in private, like in our homes, or in a room in a tavern. And we don’t strip in front of other people unless both parties consent to it.”

“Right,” he said slowly, somewhat bewildered. “I’ll just… ask you if I’m not sure.”

“Fair enough. Now come on, we have things to do. We might as well head for the armourer before going to see Hasphat.”

[]

Hasphat Antabolis was the drillmaster of the Fighter’s Guild based in Balmora. A dark skinned, burly imperial imperial man who was waiting in the lower levels of the Fighter’s guild. As Ash and Julan approached, he turned to face them.

"I am Hasphat Antabolis, Drillmaster for the Balmora Fighters Guild,” he greeted, giving the pair a curt nod. “I offer training to the public, and, at a considerable discount, to members of the Fighters Guild."

Ash sensed Julan fidget slightly next to her, but ignored him. They could ask Hasphat about training later. Right now, they were here for information.

“Caius Cosades says you were the man to ask about the Sixth House and Nerevarine Cults,” she said sharply in her usual business tone, just like her days back with the Thieves Guild before things fell through.

Hasphat raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder quickly. The other Fighter seemed to be paying no attention to them, but he still beckoned Ash and Julan follow him to a small room off of the hall.

"So you're with Caius, eh? And Caius wants information?” he said, once the door shut behind them. “Of course, there's a this-for-that involved. I require a favor first, and then I'll tell you what you want to know."

“Just tell me what needs doing.”

"There are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and find me a little cube with a circular design and some symbols on one side. It's called 'a Dwemer puzzle box'. Bring me back the Dwemer puzzle box, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

“Arkngthand?” Ash asked curiously, trying to think of where she had read the name. It was familiar, but the details eluded her.

"The old Dwemer ruins at Arkngthand are extensive on the surface and underground. Head south out of town past the silt strider port, then cross bridges east over the Odai River. At the signpost, head north towards Caldera. Immediately on the right see a signpost for Molag Mar. Turn right and head uphill on an old road to cross an ancient Dwemer bridge over Foyada Mamaea. The entrance to Arkngthand is on the east side of the foyada, south of the bridge. Turn a crank on a pipe nearby to open the doors."

Ash nodded, turned to Julan and jerked her head, leading the way back out of the guild hall. Once back out on the street, Julan sighed.

“You’re really going to go through all this trouble for a bit of information?”

“Caius is paying, and I need drakes to eat,” Ash said shortly. “Unless you could tell me anything about the Sixth House and Nerevarine Cults?”

Julan started to fidget nervously, suddenly very interested in his hands.

“I… shouldn’t say. I’m not sure if I trust you enough to tell you about it.”

Disappointing, and somewhat irritating, but Ash doubted Caius would really believe Julan anyway. Chances were he’d only accept the information directly from his sources for now, so the trip to Arkngthand was inevitable. She’d never seen a dwemer ruin before. It was sure to be interesting.

[]

So far, dwemer ruins were proving a sight better than the ayleid ruins of Cyrodiil, Ash decided as she and Julan pressed through the bowels of Arkngthand. At least this place only had bandits and not zombies shuffling about. Bandits went down far easier than zombies, and they stayed down.

But even so, it was a relief to locate the cube. The bandits had left it lying around on a shelf in their storage room, perhaps unable to solve its puzzle and therefore found it of no worth. Ash didn’t much care either way - Hasphat just asked for the cube, and so she would deliver.

It was large enough to sit neatly in her hand, and was black with red ridges decorating its surface. It didn’t look like much, but that wasn’t her concern. Now they just had to get it back to Balmora. And somehow, she knew it was only the beginning.


	5. Beauty and the Bandit

Hasphat was waiting for them in the guild hall where Ash and Julan had first met him, and he was very pleased to see them back, mostly in tact. He looked at Ash expectantly, and she reached into her pack, pulling out the puzzle box they had retrieved. Hasphat took it, grinning at the sight of it, taking it in his hands and examining it from every angle.

"Perfect. Just what I was looking for. I'll tell you what our mutual friend will want to know about the Sixth House. And about the Nerevarine.” 

“Let’s hear about the Sixth House first,” said Ash.

"House Dagoth is the Sixth House, the ‘lost’ Sixth House. In the First Age, House Dagoth betrayed the other Great Houses during the War of the First Council, and was destroyed for their treason. I can answer any questions you have, but I'll also give you some notes to give to Caius, and recommend some Sixth House references he should read," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small collection of papers bound together with string. Ash tucked them carefully into her pack.

“According to our friend, the Sixth House has a cult.”

"I've heard something about them worshipping Dagoth Ur. The idea is that the Tribunal are false gods who have betrayed Morrowind to the Imperials. The cult plans to overthrow the Temple and drive the Empire from Morrowind. The cult is outlawed by the Temple and I doubt it's very popular. I've also heard there's some connection with smuggling... that they smuggle goods, or hire smugglers, or something like that."

“And the Nerevarine?”

"The Ashlanders believe a reborn Nerevar will unite the Dunmer against the outlander invaders and restore the ancient Dark Elven nation. Nerevar is a legendary hero and saint of the Temple, but the Temple denies the prophecy, and persecutes heretics who believe in the Nerevarine.”

Her curiosity piqued at that.

“Why would the Temple persecute people for believing this Nerevar will be reborn?” Ash asked. “What are they afraid of?”

Hasphat merely shook his head. “Tell our friend that Sharn gra-Muzgob in the Mages Guild would be a better person to ask about the native faiths and superstitions. I deal only in hard facts and history, not prophecies."

Just behind her, Julan snorted only to receive a swift elbow in the ribs. If Hasphat noticed, he said nothing.

“By the way, the inscriptions on the box seem to be the directions for setting a Dwemer key to open a specific lock. If you're interested, after you've delivered your report to Caius, come back, and maybe I'll have a key you can take back to Arkngthand."

“I’ll consider,” said Ash. “Also, you said you provide training for the public?”

“Yes. I can offer training in athletics, blocking and hand-to-hand combat.”

Ash turned to Julan.

“Interested? I need to run these back to you-know-who anyway.”

“Might as well do something useful whilst you play errand girl,” he sighed.

“Right. That’ll be forty three gold.”

Ash reached into her pack and handed over the gold just as Julan balked.

“Wait, what-?”

“You can pay me back some other time,” Ash said shortly. “I’ll see you once I’ve finished speaking with our friend. See you later.”

She left before he could argue. It wasn’t that it bothered her to pay for his training. After all, at some point he’d need to be able to look after himself and it was hardly a high cost compared to what some trainers and drillmasters in Cyrodiil demanded in exchange for their services. And as she had said, if he really wanted to pay her back, he could. With her skills, she could easily make the money back anyway. As she walked, her eyes drifted over to a dunmer woman in a rich silk dress; specifically to the egg-sized opal draped around her neck.

Ash immediately drove the thought from her mind before it could take root. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t go back to that way of life after her release had gone through. Thieving had ended up bringing nothing but rotten luck in the end, and now she had a chance to start over and do better. Not many could say the same.

Caius took a moment to answer when Ash knocked, clearly having not been awake very long. For a Spymaster of the Blades, he didn’t really seem to be cut from the same cloth as other Imperial Officers Ash had had encounters with in the past.

Bolting the door shut behind them, Caius turned to Ash expectantly.

“I take it you have what I asked for.”

“Just about.” Ash reached into her pack and handed over the notes Hasphat had given her. “That covers the Sixth House, but Hasphat recommended you ask Sharn gra-Muzgob about the Nerevarine.”

"These notes are from Hasphat Antabolis? Excellent. I trust he didn't work you too hard for them. I'll look them over in more detail later, but for now, hop on over to the Balmora Mages Guild. It's right next to the Balmora Fighters Guild. Get Sharn gra-Muzgob to tell you what she knows about the Nerevarine. She'll have some silly errand for you like Hasphat did. Do what she asks. And report back when she'd given you the information."

So back across the river Ash went, slipping into the Mages Guild hall in order to seek out Sharn. The orc in question was in the lower levels of the guild hall, sorting through a bookshelf and muttering to herself. Like most orcs she had dark green skin and tusks jutting out from her lower jaw, and her dark hair was tied back into thick braids that were decorated with a multitude of carved beads.

Knowing of orcs’ inherently bad tempered nature, Ash was cautious when approaching Sharn.

“Excuse me, Sharn gra-Muzgob? Caius sent-”

"No. No interruptions! How many times....” She paused mid-rant, taking a look at Ash and processing what she had just said. “Oh. You are one of Caius' associates? That is a different matter. Caius and I have a very satisfactory arrangement, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, if you will complete a little errand for me."

“What’s the job?”

"The errand is very simple. I need the skull of Llevule Andrano. You'll find it in Andrano Ancestral Tomb. But take care not to upset the natives. The Dunmer have some peculiar primitive prejudices against necromancy, and take grave objection to unauthorized tomb visits." She sniffed haughtily, as though the thought that some people might dislike the remains of their family, friends and ancestors being desecrated for the sake of magical research was beyond comprehension. Typical mage.

“How do I get to the tomb?”

"South of Pelagiad. Just off the road. Just before the fork where the road goes southwest towards Seyda Neen and southeast to Vivec," Sharn said shortly, quickly waving Ash away as she returned her attention to the bookshelf. "When you've completed the errand, then we can discuss the information Caius wants."

[]

Julan, having apparently been exhausted by Hasphat’s intensive drills, gladly obliged to remain behind in the Southwall Cornerclub and sleep off his fatigue. Ash counted herself lucky - she was certain Julan wouldn’t take kindly to her desecrating a tomb for the sake of information on behalf of some eccentric skooma addict.

So Ash departed Balmora alone, trekking down the road that led towards Pelagiad. It was, admittedly, a lonelier journey than she had expected. And it was not a realisation she took too kindly. She had decided years ago that she was better off alone, and yet here she was, noticing Julan’s absence all too prominently. She gave herself a firm shake. There was no way she was letting herself get attached to another person. No way.

The sun began to set rapidly as Ash continued towards Pelagiad. Nightfall was swiftly approaching, and she wasn’t entirely certain if trying to locate the tomb after dark was such a good idea. She wasn’t all too familiar with this region of Vvardenfell, and wandering around in the dark in a place she didn’t know didn’t strike her as a sensible thing to do. Stopping in Pelagiad seemed a more appropriate course of action.

But as Ash walked, someone else came into view. 

A young breton woman dressed in rich finery was stood to one side of the road, wringing her hands together anxiously. Her mousy brown hair was styled into curls and her dark eyes were like topazs, dazzling even in the low light. She then caught sight of Ash and quickly swept over.

“Begging your pardon, have you seen a bandit nearby? I must find him!” she said urgently.

Instinctively, Ash reached for her spear. Bandits were trouble wherever they could be found, and were usually dangerous.

“You saw a bandit near here? Was he with others? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head quite frantically. “Oh heavens no. I was just walking along here, minding mine own business. Suddenly a bandit jumped at me from behind! He was a dark elf - a strong, dashing dark elf.” She sighed dreamily, which caught Ash off guard. “He didn’t harm me in anyway, although he did take my jewels. He was quite gentle, and talked to me for what seemed like forever.”

That did not fit with what Ash knew about bandits. She’d had her fair share of run-ins with them in Cyrodiil, and they were hardly a gentle bunch. This woman was lucky this supposed bandit took only her jewels and not her life. Or worse. But it sounded as though he’d quite captured her heart. Or it was simple infatuation. Ash was leaning towards the latter.

“What about your jewels?” Ash asked reluctantly. “Don’t you want them back?”

The breton woman blinked. “What’s that? Oh, nevermind the jewels! I just want to find the bandit again. He was charming, and funny, and I simply must see him again. What was his name…?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Nelos… Nelos Onmar… a name that will stay on my lips for all eternity.” 

She gave another dreamy sigh, the poor girl. Ash couldn’t help but pity her, and perhaps it showed as the young woman suddenly turned back to Ash, eyes wide.

“Perhaps you could find him for me?” She suggested brightly, and Ash flinched as she seized her hands, clasping them tightly with surprising strength and forcefully tugging Ash closer. “Please, I cannot live without knowing if he could ever love me. I have nothing to offer you in return, but could you not help me for the sake of love?”

Ash’s mind went blank as she realised what this woman was asking of her.

“I… could  _ try _ I guess…” she replied sheepishly once she regained herself, if only to have the breton back off slightly with those begging puppy eyes.

“You’ll try? Oh thank you so!” she cried in delight, still not relinquishing her grip. “He mentioned something about having to head south, so I imagine he might be found in Pelagiad. Please, if you find him, give him this glove for me, as a token of my love. I am certain he will want to find me again.”

She stepped back, whipping off one of her glove and pressing it into Ash’s hands, her eyes still sparkling.

“Oh, and tell him it is on Maurrie Aurmine’s behalf. He will certainly have remembered me!”

So Ash nodded, tucking the glove into her pocket before setting off up the road once more, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened exactly.

Pelagiad was an imperial settlement, which showed in its architecture. Given that it was getting dark, venturing to the Andrano tomb seemed reckless, and seeing as Maurrie was convinced Nelos had to be in Pelagiad, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

To her surprise, when she asked one of the patrolling guards, he not only recognised the name but told her that Nelos was likely in The Halfway Tavern. And lo and behold, there he was.

He certainly didn’t look like a bandit, not the kind you found in Cyrodiil at least. He was dressed in a rather mundane clothing more suited to settled living rather than the rough living that most bandits did. Thief was a term that more immediately came to mind. Charming and deceptive with the ability to empty people’s pockets with a smile. Ash was hesitant to approach him at all and simply tell Maurrie that Nelos had refused her. But then, why was it her problem?

Nelos looked up as Ash approached, raising an eyebrow.

“Can I help you, sera?”

Ash held out the glove. “Maurrie Aurmine asked me to give this to you. She said you robbed her, and yet she only seems to care about whether or not you could love her.”

He blinked, looking genuinely surprised. Ash knew better. Thieves were always clever liars and manipulators.

“How… odd,” he said, taking the glove hesitantly. “She was a lovely young woman, but what would she want with a rogue like me? She was beautiful though, and seemed sweet.”

Naive would be the term Ash would use.

“You still robbed her,” she pointed out, a sharp edge in her voice.

Nelos nodded. “I did. And for the first time in my life, I felt a little remorse for robbing someone.”

“But you weren’t going to try and return what you took, were you? Why should I believe you?”

“No words I say will convince you,” he confessed. “And you are right not to trust me. A thief is not a person who deserves to be trusted… And yet…” He shook his head. “A moment, if you may.”

He disappeared for the room for several minutes, only returning with a folded piece of parchment and a parcel in hand. It weighed heavily, as though filled with jewels.

“Take this to her. I must see her again. I won’t forget this, friend.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” Ash said tersely. “But I’ll pass on the message.”

“That’s all I ask.”

[]

The sun rose the next morning and Ash set out for the Andrano tomb. She’d pass on Nelos’ note and package to Maurrie on her way back to Balmora once she had Llevule Andrano’s skull. She simply hoped that Maurrie had the good sense to find shelter for the night. But then, this she was pining for the heart of a practiced thief who had robbed her. Good sense was probably something she was in want of.

The tomb was just off the road a little further south of Pelagiad, and was (almost predictably) crawling with the walking dead and angry spirits, as Sharn had warned.

As her spear lacked any magical enchantments it was near useless against the spirits, so Ash found herself dependent on magic as she pressed into the bowels of the tomb. Finally, she located the skull that had been left resting on a small silk pillow before a fire pit of some sort. It was riddled with engraved runes, as Sharn had said, and Ash carefully wrapped it in a cloak before tucking it into her pack.

Her work done, she left the tomb as quickly as possible and set off up the road once more. In time, she caught sight of Maurrie at the side of the road, looking as though she’d been waiting all night. Ash truly hoped that hadn’t been the case.

“Oh, my dear friend!” she cried as Ash approached. “Did you find Nelos?”

Ash nodded, pulling out the note and the package he had given to her. Maurrie took the note eagerly, ignoring the package entirely. She read it and immediately swooned.

“Oh thank you so!” she cried. “I knew that he cared. You didn’t have to do all of this for me, and I really appreciate it.” She swiftly pressed a light peck to Ash’s cheek, smiling at her warmly. “You’re clearly a wonderful person. Please, keep the jewels. Consider them my repayment to you, even though their worth will never equal all you have done for me.”

“But-”

“Please. I insist,” Maurrie said firmly, clutching Ash’s hands. “All I ask is that I know your name.”

“Ash.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck Ash, my dear friend. And I wish that you find happiness, as I have.”

She gave Ash another quick kiss on the cheek before setting off down the road, not giving her a chance to say a word.

Once she fully recovered herself, Ash shook her head and sighed. Silly girl. Yet it didn’t quell the warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d done a good thing for someone she didn’t even know. She just hoped that, for Maurrie’s sake, it worked out.


	6. Voice of the Mountain

Sharn was most pleased to receive Llevule Andrano’s skull when Ash returned to Balmorra tucking it into a small wooden box which she tucked under her arm.

"Very good. Perfect for what I have in mind. Thank you. Now. As I promised. I'll tell you what you want to know about the Nerevarine Cult. They believe the long-dead hero Nerevar will be reborn to honor ancient prophesied Nerevarine will cast down the false gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore the traditional ancestor worship practiced by the Ashlanders, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind. Both temple and Empire outlaw the cult, but it persists among the Ashlanders, who care little for Imperial or Temple law. Here. Take this copy of my notes on the topic for Caius."

She handed over a stack of notes that were bound together with string, which Ash tucked into her pack, bowing her head politely before she left. She’d deliver these to Caius, get more orders and then find Julan. Hopefully he hadn’t gone wandering about on his own and getting into trouble.

Caius answered when she knocked on the door, though he took his time. He waved her inside and closed the door behind her.

“Did gra-Muzgob have any information for you?”

Ash held out the notes, and Caius took them, giving them a brief look over.

"These are Sharn's notes on the Nerevarine cult? Excellent.” He looked up from the notes, stuffing them into his pocket. “I'm promoting you to Blades Apprentice, Ash. I'd like some time to think how this fits in with the Emperor's plans for you. So if you'd like to get in a little freelance adventuring, go ahead. But whenever you're ready, I'll have new orders for you."

Ash nodded and departed. If she had some free time, perhaps it would be a good idea to have another look around Arkngthand. Or maybe actually train Julan. She had promised to after all. But then surely she could do both at the same time?

Deciding it was best to actually find her companion, Ash headed for the Southwall Corner Club and found Julan up in the room they had rented. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, stringing his bow. By the looks of things, he’d been maintaining his other weapons too, given that they were lying out in front of him neatly.

“You took your time,” he said dryly, glancing up briefly. “Thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Ash shrugged. “I handled Sharn, got what she wanted to know. Caius says he’ll have more work for me later, so we have some free time for now.”

He blinked, then gave a grin.

“Good!” He got to his feet, fixing Ash with a determined look. “I wanted to train some more anyway.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. 

“You mean sparring?”

He nodded eagerly.

“I’ve seen you in action before,” he said firmly. “I think sparring with you will give me an idea of where I’m at.”

She shrugged, reaching for her spear.

“Come on then. Let’s go.”

He grabbed his sword from the ground and eagerly followed after. Ash led the way, just a little up the road out of Balmorra along the river until they came to a relatively clear area that would be large enough for them to practice. Ash took a moment to magically guard their weapons so that they didn’t end up mortally wounding one another.

Once that was done, she held herself ready, squaring up Julan as he took his own stance. Then they begun. Ash deflected Julan’s blows with professional ease, stepping just beyond his reach before raising the butt of her spear. But whereas in the past, Julan took the strike to his ribs, he twisted his wrist and deflected the blow, stepping just past Ash’s reach. It seemed that Hasphat’s lessons had been worth the price.

They went at it for hours, parrying, blocking and striking until they both collapsed into the dirt, panting and sweating. After a few minutes, Ash sat back up, brushing loose strands of black hair back out of her face before glancing over at Julan who was already getting back to his feet, beaming.

“Someone’s feeling happy,” she noted bluntly.

Julan nodded. “I feel great! I feel like all this hard work is finally paying off! Thank you Ash. I really think I’m ready to face Red Mountain. I feel like I could take on anything!”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “You’re headed back to the Ghostgate then?”

“That’s right,” he said determinedly. “Say, do you want to keep me company a little longer? Just over to Ghostgate and through the fence to the foot of the mountain. It’s been good to have someone to talk to, you know. I’ll miss travelling with you… But I need to get on with my sacred mission.”

Ash frowned slightly, getting to her feet.

“I should check in with Caius first, to see if he’s got anything else he needs me to do,” she said slowly. “Don’t want to head out that way, come back, then find out he needs me out there.” Julan’s face fell, so she quickly added, “but once I know if he has something, we’ll head straight for Ghostgate. I can do a job for him afterwards.”

“Ah, okay. I guess if he needed you to get something from Ald’ruhn or something, it’d be pretty silly to head out that way and find out he needs you to do something for him there anyway…” He paused, then asked, “what does he even want to know anyway?”

“Like I said, he wants to know about the Nerevarine and Sixth House,” she sighed. “Maybe he’s writing a book or something, I don’t know. All I care about is that he’s paying, which means I get to eat.”

“You could always catch your food you know,” Julan pointed out.

“Maybe. Or I could buy it. I’m not much of a hunter.”

“I could teach you.”

“Oh, so now you want to train me?” Ash snorted as they headed back into Balmorra.

“Well why not?”

“Have you forgotten when that merchant sent us to catch his guar? I recall you being rather incompetent and calling it a ‘n’wah’.”

“That’s different, we weren’t allowed to kill that guar.”

“Doesn’t change that it kept giving you the slip five times.”

They bickered the whole way over to Caius’, with Julan waiting a little further down the road whilst Ash went inside.

“I have more orders for you,” he said briskly, not bothering to bolt the door. He didn’t mean to make this a long conversation then. “I want you to interview three informants in Vivec City concerning the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. First, I want you to speak with AddhirAnirr, a Khajiit Thieves Guild operative. Second, I want you to speak with Huleeya, an Argonian in the Morag Tong. Finally, I want you to speak with Mehra Milo, a Temple priestess. Here. I've written the details down, so you won't forget. And here are 200 drakes. For bribes and other expenses.”

He thrust the note and coins into Ash’s hands, looking suspiciously uneasy.

“Something got your scrib in a knot?”

He shook his head. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. But in future, be careful about being followed when you come here. Just to be on the safe side.”

Ash shrugged, but nodded nonetheless and left. Vivec. She’d head there after going with Julan to Red Mountain.

[]

The ashstorms around Red Mountain were as fierce as ever, and Ash was trying to decide if it was just her thinking that the veil looked ever so slightly more transparent than before. It was hard to tell through the goggles.

Julan seemed a little antsy with nerves, but wanted to press on nonetheless, so they made their way in through the gates.

The raw storm within the fence was as powerful as Ash remembered, even just standing at the base of the mountain. She wore her scarf over the lower half of her face, turning to Julan.

“This is it,” he said firmly, looking up at the towering peaks.

“You ready?” Ash asked.

He nodded. “It’s unlikely that we’ll meet again, so… all I can say is thank you. For everything.”

He started up the hill, but Ash caught him by the elbow.

“Wait a minute, just what are you planning to do here anyway?” she asked, frowning.

“I-I told you, I can’t talk about it,” he insisted, tugging his arm away and not meeting her gaze.

“Don’t give me that,” Ash snapped. “You really expect me to just leave you here with no explanation?”

“Why would you care anyway?” Julan countered defensively.

“Because you might get yourself killed,” Ash retorted. “Training is one thing. But the kind of things you’ll find up here are another. You can’t go alone, Julan.”

“Get myself killed? Look, your concern is touching, but I told you, I’m ready for this now.”

“Ready for  _ what _ , though?”

“Gah, you and your questions.” He threw his hands into the air. “You’re not going to let this drop until I tell you, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Julan sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, but you have to swear yourself to secrecy.”

“I swear.”

Julan sighed, pacing up and down for a moment, taking a deep breath and then saying, without looking around at Ash, “I’m going to Dagoth Ur.”

Ash froze for a moment or two before fixing Julan with a perturbed look.

“Wait…  _ What _ ?”

“I must enter his citadel, hunt him down, and kill him.”

“Are you  _ insane _ ?!” Ash snapped. “Look Julan, no offense, but that is by far the worst idea you’ve yet.”

“And what in Oblivion would  _ you _ know about it?” Julan retorted angrily.

“He’s the  _ devil _ , you said it yourself,” Ash pointed out exasperatedly. “He’ll have you on toast!”

“ _ Toast _ ?! We’ll see who has who on toast! Look, you have no idea who you’re even talking to so shut up okay!”

Ash snorted. “I’m talking to an idiot Ashlander who not even a month ago needed saving from  _ clannfears _ ! And I hate to tell you, I don’t think I’ll be able to save you from Dagoth Ur when you go in there and get your arse kicked-!”

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?!” Julan groaned in frustration. “Sheogorath! Well, you can think what you like, but I’m going up there. Are you coming? Or are you too scared?”

“Right, because I’m too scared to follow the idiot who didn’t know that disrobing in public is a bad thing,” Ash snorted. “You’re an idiot. But I’ll go, just so I can laugh whilst you get your arse kicked!”

“Hah! We’ll see who gets their arse kicked!”

He turned on his heel and started marching up the mountain slope, Ash following behind.

The higher they climbed, the fiercer the storm became, as though the mountain itself was trying to throw them to the ground. It didn’t help that it was crawling with all sorts of diseased creatures, from cliffracers and rats to some poor souls who were consumed by the Blight.

After about ten minutes, Julan turned back to Ash.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Ash frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh. I could have sworn I heard...” He frowned, then shook his head. “Nevermind.”

He turned away again to continue up the mountain. Another ten minutes passed when he turned to Ash again, looking more frustrated this time.

“Look, I can’t hear what you’re saying when you whisper like that.”

“I didn’t say anything that time either!”

It didn’t look like he believed her. “Don’t tease me, alright? I’m trying to concentrate.”

Ash rolled her eyes, debating whether or not she should just turn around and head back down to the base of the mountain. His attitude was starting to wear thin on her.

Ash cut down another of the poor blighted bastards when Julan shouted, “STOP DOING THAT!”

It took her a moment to realise that he was addressing her.

“Stop doing what? Killing the things that want us dead?”

“Sheogorath’s knickers, if you’re trying to make me paranoid, it’s not working. Just stop it, alright?!”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re doing that all by yourself,” Ash huffed, continuing to climb the mountain as Julan stomped along to catch up, scowling.

“Just shut up!”

“I could just go right back down and leave you to it, if you want,” she snapped.

But Julan didn’t retort this time, continuing to storm up the mountainside. Ash frowned. As infuriating as he was being, there  _ was _ something wrong. And much as she hated to admit it, if he died because she went back, she would feel guilty. 

So with a sigh, she continued to follow after Julan, deeper into the storm. But things didn’t improve in the slightest.

“Agh! Shut up! SHUT UP! I’m not listening to you!” Julan screamed, clutching his hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut.

“Julan…” Ash got the feeling he wasn’t talking to her this time.

“Get  _ away _ from me! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

Ash grabbed Julan by the shoulders, shaking him roughly.

“Julan, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

But he didn’t respond, he just kept shouting and yelling at people who weren’t there.

“Stop it you s’wit! Get out of my head! No! That’s not true! I am Indoril Nerevar reborn, and you will not-!”

Ash shook him again, harder this time.

“Julan, listen to me! Snap out of it!”

Julan let out one last anguished yell before he promptly collapsed right into Ash’s arms. She blinked, taken aback and shocked at the suddenly unconscious Julan. What the  _ hell _ had just happened?

She supposed it didn’t matter right now. Stranded on Red Mountain with an unconscious Julan was  _ not _ a good thing. She had to find a way back down to the Ghostgate.

Ash shifted Julan to lean against her back, wrapping one arm around his back so that she bore the majority of his weight, whilst her other hand crackled with magic. In this position, a spear wouldn’t do her much good after all.

Once certain she wasn’t going to drop Julan (tempted though she was) Ash began the slow hike back down the mountain.

[]

It was dark and cold. Ash looked around, unable to see anything beyond herself, yet she could hear the whispers as somewhere in the distance, a bell tower began to ring.

She looked down at herself. She was garbed in a flowing black dress adorned with moons and stars. A voice laughed from somewhere in the darkness, and a tall masked figure stepped out of the darkness before her.

He took her by the arm, leading her through the darkness into a great hall. Shadowy figures filled the room. The tall figure led Ash through them, and it wasn’t long before Ash realised that among them were people she knew to be dead. He paused to speak with each of them, laughing and joking as if they were alive, yet not a whisper was given in reply.

“Omnipotent,” said the masked figure, as they continued through the hall.

Ash’s heart hammered as the hall slowly became more and more decadent.

“Omniscient.”

The dead were beginning to part.

“Sovereign.”

At the end of the hall, before a stone altar, was a tall willowy figure draped in black, a veil concealing their face.

“Immutable.”

The figure stopped, but Ash felt compelled to continue moving forwards.

“How sweet it is to be a God.”

Ash stopped before the woman in black, heart pounding, unable to speak as she reached to lift her veil…

[]

Ash jerked awake, heart hammering and breathing fast as she looked around. Of course, she was back at Ghostgate after having dragged Julan all the way back down to the mountain. The healers were tending to him, but had said it could be a while before he woke up, so Ash had sat down to read in the hallway. She must have fallen asleep.  _ The Real Barenziah _ lay open on her lap, her fingers loosely hanging onto the binding.

She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the dream. It had been disturbing to say the least, and something told her that it wasn’t a normal dream in the slightest. Something about that man in the mask and the voice hissing in her ear was deeply disturbing. Part of her hoped it wouldn’t happen again, but her gut said otherwise.

“Excuse me.”

Ash looked up to see one of the healers, Ulmiso Maloren, standing over her.

“I’ve taken a look at your friend and he’s going to be fine. But what on earth were you two doing up there on the mountain?”

“Julan could probably tell you more than I could,” she admitted. “How is he?”

“I’ve examined him and there’s nothing physically wrong with him,” Ulmiso said sternly. “He keeps muttering nonsense, but I think he’s just exhausted. He ought to wake up on his own soon, and we’ll see how he feels.”

Ash nodded, closing her book and putting it away before getting to her feet to follow Ulmiso.

Julan was beginning to come around as Ash stepped into the room, his eyes slowly opening before he sat up, looking dazed and confused.

“Uh… I’m in Ghostgate…? How did…?” He hissed, clutching his forehead. “Gods, my head… My brain feels like its fill of dust and ashes… my memories are all mixed up… I think I dreamed we were climbing Red Mountain…”

Ash frowned. “Julan, we  _ did _ climb Red Mountain,” she said slowly.

He blinked, looking around at her and frowning.

“We did? Wha… Oh… yeah… I remember now. But it was so like my dreams! Except that I could hear what the voices were saying this time!”

“Voices?”

Julan nodded. “There were some I couldn’t recognise, but one… It was Dagoth Ur. I don’t know how, I just know. He was… mocking me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about something like that happening… But... What do you remember?”

“You shouted a lot, and then you fainted.”

“I fainted? But that’s not what I- Ah… That part was a dream then. Oh, it’s all so mixed up in my head!”

Ash frowned, then nodded to Ulmiso. She excused herself, shutting the door behind her as Ash moved to sit next to Julan on the bed.

“What do you remember?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he groaned frustratedly. “Not much. It’s not important. What matters is that I failed again at my mission… I’m still not ready… Maybe I never will be…”

He stared at the floor, hands lying limply in his lap.

“Perhaps I should just go back home and herd guar… It’s all I’m good for… But then, I couldn’t even catch one, could I?” he laughed bitterly, his voice empty in a way Ash had never heard it before, and she started to regret what she’d said before.

“Don’t talk like that,” she said gently, placing a hand on his upper arm. “Being a great warrior takes time. You’re expecting too much of yourself right now. Do you think I learned everything I know in a few weeks?”

Julan attempted a smile, albeit a weak one.

“Thanks. I’m glad one of us believes in me. But… what to do now…?”

He sounded completely lost, not at all the overconfident pain in the neck he’d been these last few weeks.

“Maybe you should ask your mother. Wasn’t she the one who sent you on the mission?”

Julan heaved a sigh. “I’ve been avoiding that option, but I think you’re right. It looks like I have no other choice.”

“We don’t have to go right away,” Ash assured. “Caius needs me to go to Vivec. You can use that time to get your head on straight.”

He nodded, looking grateful.

“Right. Thanks Ash.”

“No problem… But, there is one more thing I want to ask before we go.”

He looked at her expectantly.

“When we were on the mountain, and you were yelling at the voices you said that you were ‘Indoril Nerevar reborn.’”

Julan froze. “I… I did…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Care to explain?”

“Not really, no.” He sighed. “But I don’t expect you to let me get away with that. Look, I’ll tell you, but not right now. I’m tired of all this talking, and my head hurts. Ask me again later, okay?”

Ash nodded. “Okay. But I won’t forget.”

He grinned weakly. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, we’re headed for Vivec right?”

“Soon as you’re able. Don’t rush yourself though, we’ve got time.”

He nodded. “Right… And Ash.” She paused. “I’m sorry… For yelling at you before. You were trying to look out for me and-”

“It’s fine, Julan. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“I said don’t worry about it,” she pressed. “I’ll see you later.”

And with that, she slipped back out of the room, worry prickling at the back of her neck. She was getting in too deep here. She remembered the last time she cared for someone, and it hadn’t ended well.


	7. Vivec Informants

Vivec was quite unlike any city Ash had seen before. It was unusual, even compared to the Imperial City. Set upon the edge of the Inner Sea, it was divided into cantons that resembled pyramids of a sort. The cantons were connected by various bridges over the canals below, which were navigated by gondolas, and each canton served its own purpose. The Telvanni, Redoran and Hlaalu Great Houses each had their own canton. Then there was the foreign quarter, the Arena, Temple, St Olms, St Delyn and then Vivec’s Palace.

And then there was the most unique part of Vivec - the Ministry of Truth. Once a small moon that had been sent down by Sheogorath to destroy the city, it was now used as an inescapable prison, supported only by the divine power of Vivec himself. A true marvel of Tamriel. Ash was fairly certain there was nothing else like it, and if there ever had been, it was long destroyed.

Julan, though somewhat quiet after what had happened on Red Mountain, was equal parts curious and disinterested in Vivec. Ash suspected he wasn’t really disinterested, just determined to appear aloof about it. It was a sign he was getting back to his usual self.

“Just don’t try to make me go shopping,” he grumbled as they headed for the Foreign Quarter, where their first contact, Huleeya, was supposedly waiting for them.

But it seemed that trouble was waiting for them when they found him in the Black Shalk Cornerclub. A group of dunmer seemed to be in the middle of antagonising the argonian they were looking for, shouting slurs and threatening him with violence - typical racists.

Ash walked past them, straight to Huleeya.

“Huleeya?”

"Yes?” he said nervously, eyes darting to the racists who were still shouting past Ash at him.

“I’m Ash. Our mutual friend in Balmorra sent me to speak with you.”

“Ah, you are the one Caius sent? Then perhaps you can do me a small favour. I simply wish to go to my friend's bookstore, but these troublesome fools are trying to threaten me.” He gestured to the dunmer who were seemingly growing impatient now. “They hate my race, and I think they are spoiling for a fight. Perhaps you can speak with them, and persuade them to leave us alone. I warn you... say the wrong thing, and they may attack us both."

“Sometimes the best option is to just ignore them,” Ash said lowly. “They’re looking for a reaction. I won’t let them hurt you.” She then stepped back. “So what kinds of books does your friend sell?” she asked conversationally.

Huleeya blinked, but then seemed to catch on quickly.

“A variety. Fiction, historical accounts, religious writings, works of adventurers both famous and unknown. Some you will not find anywhere else.”

“I see. And how does he tend to his books? I know some booksellers are rather careless with their wares.”

“Oh, Jobasha is nothing of the sort. He treats his books with great respect. Each lovingly tended to until the day they are sold. He sees the value of such things.”

The racist dunmer were slowly becoming annoyed with the situation having gone differently than they had wanted, and Ash wouldn’t deny, it was a very good feeling.

“What about Ashlander stories?” asked Julan. “Does Jobasha sell those?”

Huleeya nodded. “Yes. They are rare, as Ashlanders trade stories through word of mouth, rather than writing them down, though the Velothi do sometimes write these stories down.”

“Velothi?” asked Ash, glancing over to Julan.

“Ashlanders who leave their tribe to settle,” Julan snorted. “Ashlanders hate them, view them as weak.”

“And the settled dunmer view them as a insignificant under class,” Huleeya added. “They do not much care for the Velothi.”

Finally, Huleeya’s harassers stormed off, angrily muttering under their breath. Ash smirked.

“It’s amazing how little fight they really have,” she noted, turning back to Huleeya.

"Yes, less than I thought. I am sorry for all the trouble,” he sighed, shaking his head. “If you don't mind, I'd like to go to my friend's bookstore. There I can answer all your questions."

Ash nodded, leading the way out of the Black Shalk. Jobasha’s book shop was on the far end of the floor, opposite the bar. Once inside, Huleeya was glad to tell Ash what she wanted to know.

“What can you tell me about the Nerevarine cult?”

"To understand the Nerevarine cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something very different to the Ashlanders from what he means to Dunmer of the Great Houses. You should also know about the persecution of the Nerevarine, and the legacy of the False Incarnate, for the Nerevarine cult is at the heart of the ancient conflict between the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Great House Dunmer. Here is a summary for Caius, but ask your questions, and I'll answer in detail."

Ash took the stack of notes, tucking them into her pack.

“What about the history of the Ashlanders?” Seeing as Julan was so reluctant to tell her too much.

"In the First Era, the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Dunmer clans were much alike, but after the First Council and the formation of the Great Houses, Ashlanders have been steadily forced into the poorest and most hostile lands. Now the nomadic tribes look to the prophesied return of Nerevar for a restoration of their ancient rights and religious traditions."

“And you said that the Temple persecutes those who follow the Nerevarine cult. Why is that?”

"The Temple treats the Nerevarine prophecies as heresy, and the Temple imprisons and executes heretics, unless prevented by Imperial law. But, since the Nerevarine cult is hostile to the Empire, the Empire does not interfere when Temple persecutes the cult. Ashlanders hate the Temple, and particularly the Ordinators, for their ruthless treatment of Nerevarine cultists."

Ash frowned. “But there must be a reason? If the Nerevarine prophecies had no hope of coming true, why would the Temple be so scared of them?”

Huleeya shrugged. “It is politics, I would guess. Perhaps the Temple believes that faith in the prophecies would derive fate from the Tribunal. Who can say?”

“And you said something about a False Incarnate. What’s that mean?”

"In the past, some have claimed to be the reincarnated Nerevar. The most recent is known as Peakstar, a figure of legend among the Wastes tribes for the last 30 years. The Temple says these false Incarnates disprove the prophecies, since the false Incarnates fail and come to nothing, but the mystical Nerevarine cult glorifies rather than shrinks from contradictions, citing the appearance of "failed Incarnates" as certain proof of Nerevar's coming rebirth."

Julan fidgeted next to Ash. She raised an eyebrow, recalling what he’d shouted before on Red Mountain. About being ‘Indoril Nerevar reborn.’ His mission was connected to the prophecies somehow. She’d interrogate him later, after they went to see his mother.

“And what about a true Nerevarine? Where do they come into all of this?”

"When the Ashlanders joined Nerevar in the Battle of Red Mountain, he swore on his great Ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honor the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land. But after the victory, Ashlanders say the power-hungry Tribunal slew Nerevar in secret. Then, setting themselves up as gods, the Tribunal and the Great Houses forgot Nerevar's promises to the Tribes. Ashlanders say Nerevar will come again with his ring, cast down the false gods, and make good his promises to the Tribes."

“So the Ashlanders want the Nerevarine to return so that the Tribunal will be destroyed… Maybe that’s why they persecute the cult. Maybe they’re scared of people believing the prophecies and rallying against them,” Ash mused.

“Or maybe the stories are true,” Julan interjected, glaring. “And they don’t want the dunmer to know that they betrayed Nerevar at all.”

“It’s possible,” Ash agreed, turning back to Huleeya. “What do you know about the Sixth House cult?”

Huleeya frowned, scratching his head. "I've never heard of such a thing. House Dagoth was the Sixth House, but in the War of the First Council, they betrayed the other Great Houses, and were destroyed for their treason. But I've never heard of anyone worshipping them. And Dagoth Ur, the ancient head of House Dagoth, is the Devil of the Tribunal faith, but I've never heard of anyone worshipping him, either."

“Okay, well thanks for your time,” said Ash. “We need to be going now.”

Huleeya nodded before heading off into the book shop proper whilst Ash turned to Julan.

“So…”

“Later,” he said firmly, not meeting her gaze. “Mother would explain better anyway…”

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that reminded him that she wasn’t letting it go, but she turned away and headed out of the shop. She had the feeling if she went in there, she’d be overcome by the urge to take something, and that was a very bad idea.

“Come on, we need to find the next informant now,” Ash sighed, pulling out the note that Caius had given her before. Addhiranirr. Shit. Now there was a name she’d never hoped to hear again.

[]

Tracking down Addhiranirr took some work, given that she was hiding down in the Underworks of the St Olms Canton. Ash was nervous, but she couldn’t go back to Caius without that information. Hopefully the Cyrodiil branch and the Vvardenfell branch of the guild didn’t talk much.

It took a bit of wandering around, but eventually they found Addhiranirr lurking in the shadows, her eyes glowing pinpricks in the darkness.

“You are the one Caius sent? Bah, do not think this one does not remember what you did, Drals,” Addhiranirr spat.

Julan frowned at Ash.

“You know each other?” he asked.

“Know each other? Pah, this one  _ betrayed _ Addhiranirr. She is the reason this one had to come to this stinky backwater island in the first place!” She sneered at Ash. “Tell Caius he can forget it. Addhiranirr will not give information to the clawless coward who left Addhiranirr to die!”

“I didn’t leave you to die,” Ash protested, scowling. “I wanted nothing more to do with the guild, so I left. You didn’t have to go ahead with your plan. You could have left and tried again another night. The chalice wasn’t going anywhere!”

“You left Addhiranirr to the guards! This one barely escaped with her life, whilst you ran away to hide!” Addhiranirr barked, pointing at Ash accusingly, whilst Julan just looked completely baffled.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a long story,” Ash muttered before turning back to Addhiranirr. “Look, I can’t leave Vivec without that information. Surely there’s something I can do to make things even with you? After all.” She stepped right into Addhiranirr’s space. “The Great Addhiranirr wouldn’t be hiding in a rat infested sewer unless she had no choice.”

Addhiranirr glowered at Ash, then stepped back.

“As it so happens Drals, there  _ is _ something you can do for Addhiranirr. It will  _ never _ make us even, but this one will give you what Caius wants. Just this once,” she said coolly. “There is a Census and Excise agent in St Olms, looking for Addhiranirr. Get rid of him, and this one will tell you whatever it is you need to know.”

“How do you want it handled?”

“Do not kill him. If you do, they will suspect Addhiranirr was responsible and send more agents. It will make life… Uncomfortable. You understand, yes?”

Ash nodded. 

“I’ll get him to leave.”

“Good. Now go. Before I rat you out myself.”

Ash led the way back to the upper levels of the canton, but Julan stopped her once they were near the door.

“What was that all about?”

“There’s no time for-”

“No, you want me to tell you about my mission, I think it’s fair you tell me what just happened,” he said with unusual sternness, crossing his arms. Ash sighed.

“Alright. But not here, and not now. It’s… a very long story.”

Julan nodded. “Okay. Oh, and one more thing. Drals?”

Ash turned scarlet. “It’s a family name. One I don’t tend to use anymore.”

“So you were part of the Drals family?”

“It was the name written on the only thing my parents ever left me. For all I know they stole it. I don’t know, I never knew them,” Ash snapped. “Like I said, I don’t use it anymore.”

Julan held his hands up defensively. “Okay, sorry.”

Ash turned on her heel and marched away. She had to find this agent quickly, before Addhiranirr ran off just to spite her.

Up in the waistworks of the canton, Ash caught sight of an imperial man. He was dressed in expensive clothing, though nothing that boldly stated that he was an Imperial Agent. Probably a good idea, with there being so much distrust between the dunmer and the Empire. 

“Ah excuse me, Miss, Sir,” said the imperial as Ash and Julan drew near. “I'm looking for a friend of mine, a female Khajiit named Addhiranirr. I thought you might be able to tell me where to find her."

Well that all but confirmed it.

“Hm,” Ash said thoughtfully. “This khajiit… Reddish fur, leathers, piercings?”

The agent nodded.

“We saw her a while ago. She was on a gondola headed for the mainland though. She’s probably gone by now.”

The imperial tsked.

“Blast… Well thank you. Have a pleasant day.”

And with that, he walked away.

Once he was out of earshot, Ash remarked dryly, “well that was easy.”

“We should let Addhiranirr know that he’s gone.”

Ash nodded. “Let’s just hope she’s willing to cooperate.” She shook her head. “I hate this.”

Julan frowned, but didn’t say anything as they headed back down into the Underworks.

Addhiranirr was waiting, as promised, and she was still alone. Hopefully that meant she hadn’t been plotting to get back at Ash whilst she was gone.

"So. You did get rid of the annoying Census and Excise agent? Hmph. Addhiranirr wishes you could always be this reliable Drals. We made a pretty good team back in the day,” she said dryly. “Could still be, if you hadn’t gone soft on this one.”

“The information, Addhiranirr. Caius said you could tell me about the Nerevarine and Sixth House cults,” Ash said bluntly.

“Of course, to the point as always. You never much cared for friends. Except the little altmer girl. Until you got her killed. Maybe you didn’t much care for her either-”

Ash’s fist smacked Addhiranirr around the face, sending the khajiit falling to the floor.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about her,” Ash growled darkly. “Tell me what I need to know. Now.”

“Do not tell this one not to speak of Ayrea,” spat Addhiranirr. “Addhiranirr cared for her too, and then you-!”

“ _ Now _ , Addhiranirr. Or Caius will be one contact short!” Ash barked, placing her foot over the khajiit’s throat.

“Ash, don’t!” Julan protested. “She’s not worth it!”

“Listen to your friend, Drals,” gasped Addhiranirr. “You kill Addhiranirr, and Caius won’t listen to any reason you give him. Only this one can tell you about the Sixth House cult. Kill Addhiranirr, and you lose.”

Ash was frozen with pure fury, ready to twist her foot and break Addhiranirr’s neck regardless.

_ “Oh don’t kill it, please!” _

_ “It’s going to die anyway, Ayrea. The only difference is quick and painless, or slow and painful.” _

_ “Oh please don’t. I can make it better! Please!” _

The memory returned in full force and Ash forced herself to step back, away from Addhiranirr. The khajiit snorted, rising to her feet and massaging her throat.

“This one was right. You are soft, Drals.”

“Just tell me what I want to know,” Ash said quietly, not looking at her.

Addhiranirr shrugged. “Very well. If it means you leave faster. This Sixth House cult Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays VERY well. But what do they smuggle now? Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secret.” She folded her arms over her chest, frowning. “And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."

“You really have no idea what the Sixth House is smuggling? None at all?” asked Julan.

"Smuggling is big business. The Empire says we can't trade skooma, moon sugar, ebony, Dwemer artifacts, exotic Dunmer weapons and armor, and slaves. So smugglers trade these things. Smugglers also smuggle greef, shein, and sujamma to avoid Imperial tax. And now the Sixth House hires smugglers, though what they smuggle, Addhiranirr cannot say."

She shook her head, waving the issue off.

“This one has told you all she knows. Leave now. She does not want to look at you any longer.”

“And you know nothing about the Nerevarine?”

"Addhiranirr knows nothing because it is just silly superstition. So you tell Caius this, Drals. Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this nonsense. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties. Now go. The memories are painful enough without looking at her face." She waved towards Ash in disgust.

Ash nodded curtly and led the way back out of the Underworks. Back out in the sunshine, they sat themselves on the wall overlooking the Inner Sea.

“So… you want to tell me what that was all about?” asked Julan.

Ash stared at the water below. “Not really… But you won’t let me get away with that, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Well can it wait? Just a little while.”

“You agreed to wait for me. I can do the same for you.”

“Thanks. I mean it.”

“Yeah… But things got heated back there. Are you… are you okay?”

Ash sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Julan. And seeing Addhiranirr just brought it all back up.”

“But… who’s Ayrea?”

Ash froze, then looked away as her eyes started to burn. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped thickly.

“Hey, okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Julan said hurriedly, patting Ash’s shoulder awkwardly. “Um… Let’s go find… what’s her name…? Oh yeah, Mehra Milo.” He shuddered. “She’s a Temple priestess, isn’t she? Ugh, you don’t think she’s going to try and make us worship the Tribunal or something do you?”

“I’d love to see her try that one on you,” Ash giggled, still not looking up.

“Well you know me. I don’t give up,” Julan said cheerfully. “Come on. We should go.” 

Ash nodded, wiping her eyes quickly before slipping down from the wall. Caius’ note said that Mehra could be found in the Library of Vivec in the Temple Canton.

[]

The Temple Canton was crawling with Ordinators, which made Ash uneasy. Their golden masks made it feel like they were staring right through you.

The library was completely silent, a pure haven to Ash who had to resist pawing through every book she could get her hands on. She wandered the rows until she caught sight of a dunmer woman in a priestess robe with copper hair and copper eyes, as mentioned in Caius’ note.

“Excuse me?”

She looked up.

“May I help you?” she asked, glancing between Ash and Julan.

“Would you happen to be Mehra Milo?”

"I am. Caius sent you?” Ash nodded. “Follow me into the back of the library. We can't talk here."

She led the two younger dunmer through the rows until they were far away from anyone else, including the Ordinators near the doors.

“We can speak here,” said Mehra. “Caius said you would have questions.”

“You seem to know Caius well,” noted Ash.

Mehra nodded. "Caius is a dear friend. Like me, he admires the best traditions of the Temple, charity for the poor, education for the ignorant, protection for the weak. He is a Westerner, but he has come to love our land and our people.” She then glanced around warily. “But he distrusts the arbitrary power of the Ordinators, and like the Dissident priests, he suspects the Temple is hiding something. He also loves Morrowind, and he sees the failing virtues of the Temple as a threat to Morrowind's political stability."

“Who are the Dissident Priests?” Ash asked curiously.

“The Dissident priests dispute Temple doctrine, and are outlawed and persecuted by the Temple. Ordinators arrest and imprison heretics, and the Empire cannot interfere. In brief, they challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal, suggesting their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps akin to the powers of Dagoth Ur. They also condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators, and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption."

“Sounds about right,” muttered Julan.

“Caius said you could tell me about the Nerevarine cult,” Ash said.

"The Temple worships Nerevar as a saint and hero, but prophecies of his reincarnation are punished as wicked heresy. The Nerevarine cult claims the Tribunal are false gods, hence the Temple's persecution of the Nerevarine cult. A group called the Dissident Priests disputes Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies. The prescribed book 'Progress of Truth' describes their beliefs. Get a copy of 'Progress of Truth' for Caius Cosades. That will tell him things he needs to know about the Nerevarine cult."

“Someone else said something about the persecution of the cult. The Temple cracks down hard on anyone who claims the prophecies are true,” Ash pointed out. “Why?”

"Why does the Temple persecute the Dissident Priests? Because attacks on the Temple weaken the faith, and leave the people defenseless against the influence of Dagoth Ur,” Mehra explained. “Faith is what strengthens the will of the believer against Dagoth Ur's lies. Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with Dagoth Ur. Since the Empire, some Dunmer have turned away from the Temple; that's why Dagoth Ur grows stronger, why blight storms and monsters threaten the land."

Ash frowned. “So because less people believe in the Tribunal, things are getting worse?”

Mehra nodded. “It is as you say. A dark prospect indeed. You cannot force people to have faith, and so there is little to stop the growth of Dagoth Ur’s power.”

“So the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine cult, the Dissident Priests, and any who claim the Nerevarine prophecies to be true,” Ash said, crossing her arms. “It seems like a waste of time to me.”

Mehra shook her head, shrugging. "I've never understood why the Temple wastes so much energy on them either. The faithful cannot be shaken by such attacks, and the Ashlanders are just ignorant savages. But since the submission of the Temple to the Empire, and the erosion of faith among the Dunmer, the militant wing of the Temple is increasingly fierce in its attacks on heretics and heathens."

Julan opened his mouth to protest, but Ash quickly stamped on his foot, silencing him.

“Okay, what about the Progress of Truth? Where can I get a copy?”

"This book lists the disputes of the Dissident priests with Tribunal Temple doctrines. The Temple has outlawed the sale or possession of the book, so it will be hard to find. We have a copy here, but I fear I'm being watched by Ordinators here. A safer plan would be to search local booksellers. Some booksellers ignore Temple bans on outlawed books for profits or for principles." She leaned in a little closer. “I hear that a bookseller in the Foreign Quarter may have a copy. You should start there.”

Mehra straightened up again.

“I hope I have been of some help to you both,” she said. “I must return to my duties now.”

And she swept away. Julan frowned, watching her as she left.

“She’s not… as evil as I thought she would be.”

“Just because people follow a certain faith, it doesn’t mean they’re evil,” Ash said quietly. “They’re just following their beliefs. Like the Ashlanders do. Like those who follow the Nine Divines do. Faith doesn’t make people monsters. It’s only evil when they use their faith to justify their evil.”

Julan shrugged.

“I guess.”

“Anyway, we need to find this book. Let’s go see Jobasha. Hopefully he’s grateful after we helped Huleeya.”

As it so happened, Jobasha  _ was _ grateful, but wasn’t about to give up the book for free. So Ash counted out two hundred drakes and handed it over to the khajiit. Once he double counted them himself, he handed over the Progress of Truth.

Ash tucked the book into her pack. She wanted to read it herself on the way back to Balmora.


	8. Past and Present

Julan waited near the Mages Guild whilst Ash headed for Caius’ - she slipped in around the back, keeping Caius’ warning about being followed in mind. He had seemed uneasy, which meant someone might have caught onto what he was up to.

Nonetheless, he beckoned Ash in when she arrived at his door. Once he bolted the door, she held out the notes and the Progress of Truth. Caius took them.

“The notes are from Huleeya, it’s more on the Nerevarine cult. Mehra suggested giving you the _Progress of Truth_ , it’s where the Dissident Priests record their beliefs,” Ash explained.

“I see. And Addhiranirr?”

“She doesn’t know much about the Sixth House cult itself, but they’ve been involved in some sort of smuggling operation,” she went on. “Addhiranirr said it was strange because they’ve been so quiet and secretive, so she doesn’t know _what_ they’re smuggling exactly.”

Caius nodded, setting the notes and book down on the table.

"I'll make copies of your notes from Huleeya and the _Progress of Truth_. Give me time to read and digest all this. In the meantime, I'm promoting you to Journeyman. You're doing good work. And here are 200 drakes.” He handed over a purse of coins. “Go out and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes. And go do some jobs for the guilds, or other freelance work, just to keep your cover story current. Or get some training. Then, when you're fit and rested, come back, and I'll have new orders for you."

Ash nodded, turned to leave, and then paused.

“Caius?”

“Hm?” He looked up at her, brow furrowed.

“I… The other night, I had some sort of strange dream.” The words stuck in her throat, but she went on anyway. “In the dream, there was a man in a golden mask. I couldn’t see his face but… He felt… Wrong. Somehow.”

“I see. And?”

“He led me through a hall of people. People I know to be dead.” She turned away. “People who I killed.”

"You're worrying me, Ash. You're not going loopy on me, are you?”

Ash shook her head.

“No I just… There was a voice. It said… ‘Omnipotent. Omniscient. Sovereign. Immutable. How sweet it is to be a god.’” She drew a deep breath. “And then… there was a woman. But she couldn’t have been a woman because she died years ago. She looked right at me. And I felt… I felt like I was standing right before the Devil.”

There was a moment of silence as Caius looked Ash over with apparent concern.

“Listen Ash. A word of advice. In Morrowind, if you have disturbing dreams, the Temple says you are crazy. And they want to lock you up. And if you have disturbing dreams, and think they _mean_ something, then the Temple thinks you're a prophet or witch. And they want to lock you up. So take my advice, and keep a lid on it."

“I know. I have. I just… oh god Caius, the way she looked at me.” Ash pressed her face into her hands. “Accusing me. _Blaming_ me. I’ve never had a dream like that before.”

“Accusing you of what, Ash?”

“Of killing her,” Ash whispered. “It was my fault they all died… I wasn’t careful enough.”

Finally, Caius stood up and placed his hands on Ash’s shoulders.

“Look, I won’t pry into whatever happened. But right now, I need you to focus on the mission. If Dagoth Ur is trying to manipulate you through dreams, you can’t let him win. Focus on the here and the now, it’s all that matters.”

He dropped his hands, and Ash nodded, breathing deeply.

“Now go on. And try to keep your head on straight. I’ll have orders for you when you get back.”

Julan was waiting where Ash had left him, looking rather distracted.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

He nodded, getting to his feet, dusting himself off. He looked as though he’d been coming to terms with something terrible. Ash wondered if his mother really could be that bad.

“So, where are we headed?” Ash asked.

“My home is west of the Ahemmusa camp. All we have to do from there is follow the coast to the foot of the mountains. You’ll recognise the camp from the skulls hanging outside.” He paused, then added, “uh, don’t worry about those. It’s mother’s idea of a joke… I think… Shall we go?”

“Sure.”

“Right. Look, let’s head to Vos first. It’s the quickest way, and I want to stop by the Tradehouse. I was thinking we could pick up some kind of gift for mother to sweeten her temper a bit. She’s _really_ not going to like what I’ve been doing. At all… Wait no, let’s stop by the tavern first. I _really_ need a drink!”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “You need to be drunk to deal with your mother? How bad is she?”

Julan shook his head. “It’s not that, just… Well, you’ll see for yourself. Speaking of which… How are we getting there?”

“Well we need to get to Vos, right? I was thinking we use the Guild Guide to get to Sadrith Mora. From there we take a boat north to Vos.”

“You’ve really learned a lot of ways of getting around already, haven’t you?”

“It beats walking everywhere. Come on. The Guild Guide is inside.”

They headed into the Mages Guild and down into the main hall. Ash caught sight of Sharn at work, but didn’t stop to say hello. Undoubtedly she was up to some sort of arcane research with Llevule Andrano’s skull, which Ash wanted to know nothing about.

The Balmora Guild Guide was a young breton woman, who happily accepted the required twenty drakes to teleport Ash and Julan to Sadrith Mora’s Mages Guild hall. They arrived in a flash, arriving instantaneously with Julan nearly falling over in surprise. For someone who knew how to cast teleportation spells, it was almost funny how he was the one tripping up.

From there, they headed to the docks and booked passage to Vos. Once aboard, they moved to a pokey little cabin below deck, and Ash knew she had to tell the story sooner or later.

“It was a long time ago. I joined up with the Thieves Guild when I was about sixteen. Before then, I’d gotten by. Mostly through pickpocketing to buy food, huddling up in an old abandoned house in Cheydinhal. It wasn’t exactly glamorous,” she began. “With the guild, I had a chance to get away from that. To get off of the streets, have a real home with real food. Not the shit I could just about afford with a few stolen drakes.”

Not that it ever happened. She still ended up sleeping on the same ancient mattress in the same abandoned house, eating slightly stale bread. So much for getting away from poverty.

“It was out on the Imperial Waterfront where I first met Ayrea. She was a little thing, only about seven or eight. What happened to her parents, I don’t know. She was just there, trying to get by. But she wasn’t like me, just out for herself.”

Ash gave a small nostalgic smile.

“She’d already managed to teach herself a few basic healing spells, and used them to help people. The beggars didn’t have to worry about bleeding feet because Ayrea could heal them. If a guard got caught in an ambush and left for dead, she’d keep them going until help arrived. She was a little girl, no home, no food, no money, but she never asked for anything in return.” She shook her head, still smiling. “How she lasted that long, I have no idea. But not everyone is so kind. Some ‘pureblood’ altmer thugs tried to give her trouble, calling her a filthy little mongrel. I saw them, and I killed them. I’d never killed someone before then.”

She remembered the blood most clearly of all. The way it splattered down her face as their eyes went dark. It wasn’t something she could just forget.

“Ayrea wasn’t happy with me for what I did. Said there was no need to kill them. She tried to save them, for all the good it did them. But… she understood why I did it. She forgave me, then thanked me for trying to help. She always was too forgiving.”

“She sounds like a good person.”

“The best…” Ash murmured. “Anyway, eventually winter came and it was the worst one in years. Ayrea got sick, so I brought her to a healer and used what little money I had to pay for the treatment. After that, I brought her back to Cheydinhal so she would have shelter. So she could recover. When spring came, she decided to stay. She became my little sister, and I would do anything I had to so I could keep her safe.”

“So what happened? Addhiranirr said you betrayed the guild.”

Ash shook her head. “Maybe I did… Addhiranirr and I had been sent to steal a chalice from some collector in the Imperial City. Ayrea and I had been staying in a safehouse there for a while, because there was a lot of business in the area, and I didn’t like leaving her alone. And she liked the guild, she liked spending time with the others. Anyway, so Addhiranirr and I broke into the collector’s home in the city, a big manor house. But… I don’t know, I’d been having doubts about the guild for a while. Christoph said we stole from the rich to give to the poor, yet the beggars stayed poor and starving, you know? We were halfway to the chalice, and I realised that I couldn’t do it anymore. I was dragging myself down, and I was taking Ayrea with me. I told Addhiranirr I was out, that she could go ahead without me or find someone else. I wasn’t doing it.”

“She didn’t take that well,” Julan snorted.

Ash shook her head again. “No,” she said softly. “She didn’t.”

_“What do you mean you won’t do it? Come on Ash, imagine. If we steal this chalice, we can leave the guild forever. You, Addhiranirr, and Ayrea. We will have the life we always dreamed of!” Addhiranirr insisted, stepping closer to Ash, taking her hand._

_“I can’t… I won’t! I can’t give her a life built on this Addi, I can’t!” Ash argued, stepping away from Addhiranirr, pulling her hand away._

_“Don’t do this, please!” Addhiranirr pleaded. “This one, she needs you!”_

_“I’m sorry Addi… But this is it for us.”_

“I left. Went back to the safe house and told Ayrea we were leaving. I headed for the stables to book a carriage back to Cheydinhal, but when I got back…”

_“No, Ayrea, no!” Ash screamed, scrambling over to the collapsed beam, the smoke overwhelming._

_Blood covered the floor, and Ayrea’s face was blank, her eyes dark. She was already dead._

_“What have you done?!” Addhiranirr screamed when Ash emerged from the burning safe house. “You monster! You betrayed us! You brought them here!”_

_“Addi, I never-!”_

_“Do not call this one by that name, Drals! You killed them, all of them! Do. Not. Call. Me. That,” Addhiranirr growled._

“A guard had followed me back to the safehouse. Once I left, Hieronymus Lex ordered the attack. Everyone inside was killed by the Imperial Guards because I was careless… Including Ayrea…”

Her eyes were burning with tears, and the mattress of the bed sunk slightly as Julan sat next to Ash, carefully placing an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently.

“I ran after that. Went back to Cheydinhal and never looked back. Addhiranirr told the guild that I’d betrayed them to Lex. I stayed low, and eventually they gave up trying to find me. After all, they had to recover their losses, not waste resources trying to catch me,” Ash said wetly. “I tried to go clean after that. The thieving, the skooma, all of it. I wanted it gone. But old habits die hard.”

She shook her head, tears streaking down her face.

“It’s how I ended up here. I wanted to get my hands on a book. One I couldn’t find anywhere, except for at First Edition. I was going to buy it, but the proprietor, Phinteas, is a snob. No way it’d have been affordable for me. But I so wanted it…”

“So you tried to take it?” Julan asked disbelievingly.

“Don’t give me that. I know I fucked up,” Ash snapped. “I proved that I hadn’t changed a _bit_ since Ayrea’s death. I was so pathetic, I went back on the promise I made not to steal anymore. All for a _stupid book_. But Phinteas knew who I was, and guessed I would try to steal it. He was waiting, along with Hieronymus Lex and his guards. They dragged me off to prison. The way Lex was talking, I thought they were going to execute me. Instead they stuck me on a ship, and sent me here.”

She took a long, deep breath, shaking her head.

“What about Addhiranirr? She said that what happened meant she had to come to Vvardenfell.”

“Addhiranirr and I were… Close. Very close. Even when she told them that it was my fault, they thought she was involved.”

“What, so you were really good friends or-?” He paused as realisation dawned on him. “Oh. _That_ close…”

Ash nodded. “They gave her a week to get out of Cyrodiil to save herself. At least that’s what I heard. She obviously hasn’t forgiven me. She probably never will, so it’s ancient history now.”

“Ah, okay… I’m… sorry?”

“It’s okay,” Ash said, shrugging. “I got over it a long time ago. She wouldn’t listen to me, so why waste my time hoping she’d come around? I moved on with my life… Or from her, anyway. I think the other day kinda proved that.”

Julan nodded. “Yeah… I really thought you were going to kill her for that.”

“I wanted to. The way she tried using Ayrea against me like that…! She knew how much I loved Ayrea. We always used to talk, me and Addhiranirr, about how when we had enough money, we would leave the guild. The three of us would find a nice house in a nice place and live our happy ever after somewhere, away from the thieving.” She laughed, short and harsh. “Some happy ending that turned out to be.”

“Well maybe because it’s not the end just yet.” Ash looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just something the clan elders used to say.”

“Maybe you’re right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Are you gonna be okay?”

“Maybe someday,” Ash said shortly. “Not right now, but maybe one day.”

“Better than nothing.”

Ash nodded. With that, she had to agree.

[]

They made landfall at Vos early the next morning. It was clearly a Telvanni settlement, if the mushroom tower was anything to go by. Ash had read about the Telvanni towers, but had never seen anything like it in person before. It was, honestly, just bizarre yet enthralling.

Julan, knowing Vos far better than Ash did, took the lead and headed for the tradehouse. The room was circular, with spongy walls - it ought to have been expected, but even so, it was so strange.

“Why Julan, hello!” greeted the merchant behind the counter. “I haven’t seen you in a long while. How is your lovely mother? And who’s this, a new friend? Looking for anything in particular?”

“Hello Lleris,” said Julan. “I was looking for something mother might like.”

“Ah, I see. A thoughtful gift for the esteemed Mashti is it? I may have something suitable…” He reached below the counter, muttering for a few moments and banging his head as he resurfaced. “Stupid s’wit… As it happens, I just obtained a rather valuable and powerful item - a Twilightbalm Amulet. Might that suit the lady? Only a thousand gold.”

“Let me see it.” Julan took the amulet, turning it over carefully. “Yes, it’s perfect. But… ah… I don’t have that kind of money… Or any money really…”

“I’ll pay for it,” Ash sighed, reaching into her purse.

Julan blinked. “Huh? Oh, thanks. I’ll pay you back. Someday.”

“No you won’t,” Ash said briskly. “But if you ever save my life, we’ll call it even.” She handed the money over to Lleris and Julan pocketed the amulet.

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be of service. Do give Mashti my regards when you see her, won’t you?”

“We will,” said Julan, waving as he and Ash left the tradehouse. “Alright, now it’s off to see my mother…” He sighed.

“You _really_ don’t want to see her, do you?”

“It’s not that. I just…” He shook his head. “She can be a bit funny sometimes. And strange. Just… try to keep an open mind around her, okay?”

Ash nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

So they set off in the direction of the Ahemmusa camp, promptly turning to the coast when it was in sight. For whatever reason, Julan didn’t want to get too close. As they walked, Julan finally told his own story.

"The first thing you should know is that my mother is not _actually_ my mother by birth," he explained. "No one has any idea who my real parents are. Azura sent mother a dream, telling her to follow a black kagouti into the Grazelands. She found me: a baby in the shadow of some rocks. Azura told her that her task would be to raise as me as a warrior for an important destiny."

“And you never wondered who your real parents were?”

"Not really, but that's because I never had any reason to before. Besides, Mashti is my mother. She raised me and that's what's important to me."

"Was she still with the camp when she found you?"

He shook his head. "No, she had just been exiled. Azura told her that her fate was to be left alone so she could concentrate on my upbringing."

"Do you know _why_ she was exiled?"

"No,” he said, shrugging. “It was before I was born, of course. Something to do with tribal politics. I think she upset some important people. If you really want to know you could ask her, but I doubt she'd tell you, considering she’s never told me. She doesn't like to talk about it."

He sighed. "I used to play in the camp as a child and I heard all sorts of lies – vicious, untrue rumours.”

"What does this have to do with Nerevar?"

“You know who Nerevar was, right? The one who united our people against the nords and dwemer?”

“I know he united the dunmer and swore that he would honour the ways of the spirits and the rights of the lands before he died. The Dissident Priests claim he was betrayed and murdered by the Tribunal who forgot his promise to the Ashlander tribes, and now the tribes await the rebirth of Nerevar to reclaim Morrowind from the outlanders.”

“About right,” he sighed.

“Okay, but what does that have to do with you?”

“Azura foretold that Nerevar's spirit would one day be reborn to avenge himself and set things to rights in Vvardenfell by destroying Dagoth Ur and whatever profane sorcery the Tribunal used to steal their false god-hood. In the prophecies, this reincarnated Nerevar is known as the Nerevarine."

Ash frowned, putting the pieces together.

“Wait… so you believe _you’re_ the Nerevarine?” she asked skeptically.

"I know it sounds…well, unbelievable,” Julan began. “I find it hard to believe myself, sometimes. But…it's true. Azura has revealed her will and explained what must be done. I know I have a responsibility to fulfill and however impossible it might seem I have to try. Who could oppose Azura?"

Ash shrugged. “Good point.”

"I trust her to know what my destiny hold, and what I am capable of.”

“So...you speak to a daedric prince?”

"Not personally, no,” he admitted. “She speaks to my mother through her dreams and visions. That's why I need to go home and consult her wisdom. She'll know what to do, because Azura will advise her."

Ash had heard of the Daedric Princes communicating to and through certain individuals, so maybe it wasn’t all _that_ farfetched, but even so...

“Ash… I know I've been very secretive about all this...but I do have good reasons.”

She glanced up at him.

“Can you tell me?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded. “Because I trust you, yes,” he replied. “If they knew about me, the Tribunal and their Temple followers would hunt me down and destroy me. So would the Emperor, come to that, since the Nerevarine is also prophesied to free Vvardenfell from the foreign invaders. So I must ask you to keep my secret."

“You promise to keep mine, and I’ll keep yours.”

He grinned. “I think I can manage that… Though it might be easier if I knew your first name?”

“Nice try Kaushibael, not going to happen,” she said flatly.

“Eh, you’ll tell me one day.”

“Will I now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I doubt it.”

For a while, they said nothing, until they came to a rise overlooking the ocean and the sun reflected off of the water in glittering waves.

"Ash.” She looked up at Julan who turned his gaze down to her. “Thank you. For everything. One of these days I swear I'll do something you can thank me for."

“I’ll hold you to that.”


	9. Mashti Kaushibael

The trip to the Kaushibael camp took most of the day walking along the coast. As Julan had said, the largest of the three yurts had skulls decorating the entrance, as he had said. Ash had half wished he had been joking about that, but going by the look on his face (pale and a little sick) he really hadn’t been.

“Alright. Just… Let me do the talking,” he said evenly, pushing back the flap into the yurt. Ash followed him inside, only to just dodge a stinging hex in the nick of time.

Standing there before the fire, hands raised and crackling with magic, was Julan’s mother.

“Who are you?” She demanded hotly. She looked over at Julan, then back to Ash, looking very much like she wanted to rend them both apart. “ _Why_ are you here with my son? I warn you, if you _dare -”_

“MOTHER!”

Mashti flinched briefly as Julan raised his voice. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the Twilightbalm Amulet and holding it out to her.

“I got you a gift, see?”

Mashti looked at it warily, then back at Julan before taking the amulet, examining it closely. She sniffed, pocketing it before turning back to Julan. She was somewhat younger than Ash had expected; her dark hair was flecked with silver, but the way Julan described her, Ash had more envisioned an old hag. She carried herself proudly, to the point she almost looked haughty, but she said no more, giving her son an eagle-eyed glare.

“Look, Mother, let me explain,” Julan said slowly before looking back at Ash. “Ash why don’t you light the fire in the…’guest’ yurt?”

Ash raised an eyebrow as Mashti scoffed.

“It’s the middle one,” he said. “That’s where you’ll be staying tonight. Let me explain things to Mother.”

Deciding it was best to escape now rather than to be trapped in a confined space with an angry Mashti, Ash nodded and slipped back outside. The moment the flap closed, the shouting started and she winced. A silencing charm might well be necessary later if they carried on all evening.

But rather than stand there and listen to them, Ash made her way to the guest yurt and stepped inside.

She raised an eyebrow. Inside there was an unlit fire, a bedroll and a series of crates and bottles, some of which were empty.

“‘Guest yurt’, yeah right Julan,” Ash murmured, shaking her head. But there wasn’t much room to be picky about it. At least it was somewhere to lay her head for a while.

Ash knelt down and kindled the fire, still painfully aware of the shouting going on next door - she hadn’t known that Julan even knew those words. Their arguing went on for several more minutes before it suddenly fell quiet, and Ash could hear a familiar voice muttering somewhere outside, coming closer and closer when Julan stepped inside.

He looked a little short of breath.

“Is that how conversations with your mother usually go?” Ash asked lightly.

“Huh? No… No…” He shook his head. "I came to tell you that Mother and I have talked things over."

“With raised voices, right.”

"We've…um… _agreed_ that Azura should be consulted," Julan replied uneasily. "She's not happy about your involvement, but agrees that you may be able to help. She will seek Azura's guidance. This means a ritual to summon the Daedra Prince in a dream. Mother has to make prayers and incantations to receive the vision. I'd better go back and help her prepare."

Ash nodded.

“Okay. Is there anything I can do?”

Julan blinked, seemingly surprised. “No, don’t worry about it. Just get some rest. See you in the morning."

[]

Ash found herself once again in the decedent grand hall, the walls now made from crumbling grey stone, and cobwebs clung in thick masses to the chandelier above. The dead were whispering this time, so quiet she couldn’t understand them, but just enough to hear. The man in the golden mask was nowhere in sight.

A bell tolled forebodingly in the distance.

A soft weeping sound caught in Ash’s ears, and she followed it, weaving through the whispering dead, each of them grey and lifeless, their eyes vacant and empty. Ash’s heart pounded in her chest as the weeping grew louder and louder until she came across a heart wrenchingly familiar young girl.

Ayrea looked up at Ash, wide eyed and innocent. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She held out a hand and Ash took it without thought, tugging the young Ayrea into her arms.

But the weeping grew louder and louder, ringing in her ears, followed by screaming. Ash looked down and to her horror, it was Ayrea, fifteen years old and lying dead in her arms, crushed by the wooden beam. Her face blank and lifeless, but her eyes fixed in that ever accusing stare.

“What’s the matter, Nerevar?” whispered the man in the golden mask, appearing suddenly at her shoulder. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ash whirled around, but he caught her wrist with simple ease.

“How sweet it is to be a god…” he purred, laughing as the bell rang louder and louder and louder, accompanied by the horrible screams of the dying Ayrea.

[]

Ash sat bolt upright, breathing hard with her heart hammering in her chest, sweat pouring down her body. A dream. Just another horrible dream. She pressed her forehead against her knee, trying to re-establish a grip on reality. She couldn’t let it get to her. She’d only started having these dreams since coming to Vvardenfell, they had to be Dagoth Ur’s work.

Ash ran her hand through her hair, detangling the damp knots. A few strands fell into her face and she didn’t attempt to push them back. She was too exhausted to have only just woken up.

The fire had long gone out, and judging from how dark it was it still had to be the middle of the night. Somewhere, she heard something moving across the sand. Instinctively, Ash went for her spear.

“Ash?”

She blinked. It was Julan. He stuck his head around the flap.

“Are you awake?”

“Just about,” she murmured, setting the spear back down.

“Is it alright if I…?”

“Of course.” She sat more upright, brushing her hair out of her face to appear slightly more presentable, lighting the fire with a click of her fingers, throwing long shadows over the yurt. “Something wrong?”

It looked it. He looked dreadfully pale, like he hadn’t slept well either. At least she wasn’t alone in that regard.

"No, not really…” he trailed off slightly, stepping properly into the yurt. “It’s just... I...I think I'm going mad."

Ash frowned, getting to her feet.

“What do you mean?” she asked, approaching him. Instinctively she brushed his hair from his face - it was damp with sweat. “Julan, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

"I had another dream,” he said in a very small, very tired voice.

“Tell me.”

“It was horrible. Worse. I wasn't climbing Red Mountain any more, I was in this cavern. There were these Ash Priest things standing around, whispering… whispering horrible things. And I could see, feel my skin rotting, growing monstrous, and not just my body...but my mind too."

Ash looked at him, concerned, fingers lingering against his neck before she realised and withdrew them.

“I felt them crawling around in my mind trying to change who I am, trying to change everything I believe in into something horrible and depraved… eating away at my identity until there was nothing left except what _they_ had put there,” he went on, sounding frightened.

“When I woke I swore I could see them in flashes, the Ash Priest things, out of the corner of my eye. But when I looked again they were gone. I felt like I was _losing_ it. I can't talk to Mother, obviously. She's deep in the dream-prayer. Maybe it's nothing, but it didn't _feel_ like nothing. I felt so alone; I had to talk to _someone_. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared."

He certainly looked it. He was paler than ever, his hands were trembling and he wasn’t quite meeting Ash’s gaze. Instinctively, she placed a hand to his cheek, rubbing the bone with her thumb in a soothing motion.

"I don't want to go mad, and if Dagoth Ur wants my mind I won't go quietly! But…” In that moment, Ash had never seen him more scared as he uttered, “what if I'm not strong enough?"

“You _are_ ,” Ash said finally, with every bit of certainty she could muster. “You’re not alone Julan…” She screwed up her nerve and said, “You have me.”

Finally he met her gaze, eyes still uncertain. Before he could protest, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. A second later, he returned the gesture, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though afraid she might let go if he didn’t.

For a long while they stayed where they were, until Ash could have sworn she felt something pressed against the base of her neck.

“Julan, did you just-?”

Before she could say it, he back off quickly, banging his head against one of the yurt’s supports.

“I…I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said hurriedly, half-running out of the yurt.

“Julan, wait-!”

But he was already gone.

Ash sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She really was far in too deep to go back now. She looked back to the bedroll and grimaced. Going back to sleep was not looking all too appealing at the moment.

[]

The rest of the night passed without incident or bad dreams, and Ash strolled down to the water’s edge to wash. It was very early, so she doubted Julan or Mashti would be up at the moment.

Once clean, she returned to the yurt to dry, dress and have something to eat from her pack. She doubted Mashti was going to offer anything, and if she did, there was a good chance something would be poisoned.

Not long after she finished eating, Julan appeared at the yurt’s entrance, not meeting Ash’s gaze again.

“She wants to speak to us.”

And he was gone again before she could even say a word. Ash sighed, shaking her head as she rose to her feet and followed after him.

Mashti was waiting in her yurt, giving Ash a very dark glare.

"I have spoken with the Daedric Prince who guides me in all matters concerning my son," she said coldly. "She informed me that you can be trusted and that you may yet even be important to the fulfilment of the prophecies. My son has chosen to disclose to you the secrets of his mission."

Julan seemed to find the ground very interesting, scratching the back of his neck.

"Outlander, you cannot hope to comprehend its importance to this land, but I hope for your sake that you will try,” Mashti continued gravely, narrowing her scarlet eyes. “The Gods deal harshly with those who would stand in the way of destiny.”

“I’ll try not to get in the way then,” Ash replied coolly, meeting Mashti’s glare. Julan let out a small groan, but to both their surprise, the corners of Mashti’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly.

"I understand that you have been training my son,” she said. “In faith, I myself can see the improvement. Perhaps it is that you have been chosen to aid him on this difficult journey. If so, you have a choice. You can continue to support him as he carries out his work of destiny, and be rewarded with all the gifts that the Gods bestow."

“And dare I ask what my other choice is?”

"Or you can betray him, and I will cast down the curses of a thousand vengeful ancestors upon you to hound you waking and sleeping to the end of your brief, miserable life."

“I wouldn’t worry. I get the feeling someone else did the cursing a long time ago,” Ash said curtly, rising to her feet. “Is that all?”

Mashti pursed her lips into a dangerously thin line, before reaching into the pocket of her robes.

“My son needs experience of the world, and you can offer him that. I will contact you again when the time is right."

She held out a pair of silver rings encrusted with blue gems.

“These are rings that will allow you both to communicate with each other via a spiritual link. They will also enable you to travel to one another's position in much the same way as Mark and Recall as well as to return here, when the need arises."

Ash took one, and Julan took the other. The silver band hummed with magicka and Ash slipped it onto her finger.

“Now go. We are done here,” Mashti said firmly, turning away.

Julan inclined his head and the pair departed the yurt. Back out in the open air, Julan stretched, looking happier than he had since yesterday.

“That went better than I thought it would!” he exclaimed before turning back to Ash. “So, Azura thinks you're okay? Heh, she should _know,_ I guess. And now we get to go adventuring together!”

Ash raised an eyebrow.

“What, like we haven’t been already?” she said with a slight laugh. “Dwemer ruins, bandits, guar, numerous cliffracers around every corner… I think we’ve been adventuring for a while now.”

He laughed. “I guess that’s true.” Slowly, his smile began to fade and he beckoned Ash to follow him further up the beach. “Look… I suppose I should apologize…”

Ash frowned. “For what?”

He sighed. “Last night, when I came into your yurt… I know I was in a bad state of mind, but it's no excuse,” he said firmly, not looking at her again. “It was only later that I even _realised_ what I did. We don't know each other that well and it's the middle of the night, you were asleep and vulnerable… and I burst into your yurt with no warning. You might have thought I was trying to... well…”

“Take advantage?” Ash asked, crossing her arms.

“Well, yeah,” he said, blushing slightly. “I apologize, I didn't mean to scare you. Some people think all Ashlander men are savages...”

“Julan, when you got pissed drunk you apologised for spilling matze down me. Most ‘civilised’ men I’ve met have done far worse,” she said flatly. “Or tried to. And they walk away with broken fingers.”

“I'm not saying you think we’re savages, but...” He groaned, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, it's not true. If I was going to make a move on you, it wouldn't be like that! Uh... not that I'd make a move on you, of course.”

“You mean like how you _didn’t_ kiss my neck last night?”

He went very pale.

“…Did I?”

“I’m fairly certain that was what you did.”

“Oh. Oh... gods... I was hoping you'd forgotten about that,” he said sheepishly. Ash cocked an eyebrow. “Or not noticed, or thought you were dreaming, or something… anything less embarrassing than…Oh gods. Um. Sorry, Ash…I got a little... _carried away -”_

“You need to get carried away more often,” she muttered, smirking.

“- It won't happen again, I swear!” Julan insisted. “Like I said, I wasn't in my right mind and-” He froze, realising what she had just said. “Hang on, what did you say? You... _liked_ it?”

“Oh, ‘not in your right mind,’ I see,” Ash said teasingly.

“You’re not offended?” He asked cautiously.

“Is this the face of an offended woman, Julan?”

“Hey... wait. Are you saying you wouldn't be offended? If something like that were to happen again, I mean?”

There was a long few moments of silence, and Ash was aware how close they were standing to one another.

“Maybe…that would depend, now, wouldn’t it?”

“I see... That's very _... interesting_.”

It was clear they were both thinking the same thing. But whether they’d act upon it was a different story.

“So... purely hyperactively speaking... would you be unbearably offended if I were to do this?” He asked, slipping his fingers into the crook of her jaw, tugging her closer.

“Hm… Nope, not offended,” Ash murmured, arms slipping down to his sides, ignoring his mistake with the word 'hyperactively.'

“Not even if I do this?” His hands rested against her waist pulling her up against him.

“Not even remotely.”

“And… what if I did this…?”

He took the plunge, pressing his lips against hers with a heated passion. Ash wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Oh gods it had been so long since someone had kissed her like that. Not since-

She forced the thought from her mind. She wasn’t going to dwell on past lovers, not when she had all she could want right here.

Finally they parted, breathing heavily, starved for air. Ash’s hands rested on Julan’s shoulders, and she felt her lips spread into a grin, a breathless giggle escaping her lips. Julan was smiling too.

“Well that was… That was…” He was incapable of finding the words, so he turned to Ash and said, “did you…?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she said teasingly, tugging at his collar. “I’m going to need some more testing to be certain.”

“But I- Oh.” He went scarlet, but grinned giddily. “I think I can do that.”

Ash could only imagine what Mashti might do if she caught the pair, but really, right now, Ash just didn’t give a damn what the old woman thought.


	10. A Thoughtful Gift

Ash was in no immediate hurry to get back to Balmora, yet it was difficult to come up with a reason good enough not to head back already. At least one that didn’t feel like a complete and utter lie so she and Julan could waste a few days doing absolutely nothing, and given their respective missions, a few wasted days could easily come back to bite them. So they paid for a ship back to Sadrith Mora from Vos, and huddled together in the hull.

Julan seemed hesitant since the kiss, as though not quite knowing where the boundaries lay anymore. Even now he was fidgeting next to Ash as she read _The Real Barenziah_.

“Something on your mind?” she asked as he shifted for the hundredth time, apparently unable to decide what to do with his arms.

He opened his mouth, as if to protest, then closed it again and shook his head.

“Can we talk…? About… the other day?”

Ash frowned slightly, but nodded, taking her attention from the book and focusing on him.

"I need to know where I stand with you,” he said hurriedly, not stopping for breath. “I mean, I'd hate to think that kiss was just a one-off, but I don't know how you feel. I don't feel like making a fool of myself, if you're not interested-"

She pressed her lips to his cheek, cutting him off and causing him to swiftly turned scarlet. She smirked as she pulled back, eyes returning to her book.

“I hope that clears that up,” she said almost smugly.

“Y-yeah, definitely.” He sounded very pleased, then he cleared his throat, looking away. “No one's ever kissed me quite like _that_ before. But Ash, to be honest, I'm not in any position to get involved with someone.” She looked up again, head cocked to one side. “My mission is too important, and this sort of thing has, uh…caused problems in the past…”

"Look Julan, if you’re not comfortable with us being-"

"Oh, no. That's not what I was going to say. I know I shouldn't be doing this, and I can't let it get too serious, but…there's something about you." He looked back around at her with a smile on his lips with his brow knitted, a look of adoring curiosity. "I don't know what it is, but I'm intrigued. I can't stop thinking about you. And I can't help but wondering…Is there anyone else?"

“Not since Addhiranirr,” Ash said, shrugging. “And after everything that happened, with her and Ayrea and the guild… It was easier to just keep to myself. Why?” She smirked. "Were you afraid that some big bad Nord might come and smash your head in?"

“No! Well… okay maybe a little. But I don't care if they do, let 'em try. I just want to know if I have any competition.” He grinned, wrapping his hand around hers and bringing to his lips, all whilst keeping his gaze locked on hers. “Call me selfish, but I don't like the thought of sharing you."

Ash smiled right back.

“You won’t be. Provided I won’t have to share you either.”

He grinned, settling more comfortably at her side with an arm draped around her waist.

“You won’t need to worry about that, I swear.”

Ash smiled, albeit to herself, as she returned her attention to her book and continued to read by magelight.

[]

_"There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you."_

_Ash looked around. The air was heavy, and it hurt to breath. A party was gathered in the center of the decaying hall she’d come to find so horrendously familiar. They were all dressed in black, with their heads bowed. The tallest turned. The man with the golden mask. He beckoned her forwards, and she obeyed without thought, drawing closer and closer._

_The weeping figures parted and Ash’s heart stopped in her chest. Lying lifeless atop the table, lit by candles, was_ her _. Draped in a black silk gown adorned with silver moons and stars, she lay unmoving and silent. Dead._

_Ash couldn’t stop even as though she wished to, continuing to approach her own dead body. The golden masked figure lingered behind, watchful. Ash brushed a hand over her lifeless one - there was a ring on her finger. But there was no time to examine it._

_The body on the table drew a sharp breath. Red-violet eyes snapped open. She sat bolt upright, screaming an awful, terrible scream._

[]

Balmora was much the same as it always was whenever Ash returned. Same backwater slum with its stinking, stagnant canal running through the centre. But it was becoming increasingly familiar, she found, and definitely felt more and more like home the more often she returned.

Her taste since coming to Vvardenfell had taken quite the swandive it seemed, she thought jokingly, trying to think of anything other than that dreadful screaming that rang in her ears.

She’d not told Julan about her nightmare. There was enough on his mind as it was, and she could handle a few bad dreams. She wasn’t a little girl who needed to be coddled because her mind was playing tricks… Or because someone was trying to manipulate her.

_“Right now, I need you to focus on the mission. If Dagoth Ur is trying to manipulate you through dreams, you can’t let him win. Focus on the here and the now, it’s all that matters.”_

Caius’ wise words weren’t helping half so much as Ash would like. How could you focus on here and now when your mind was clouded with the vision of your own dead body?

Julan went to visit Hasphat at the Fighter’s Guild, hoping for some more lessons whilst Ash went to see Caius. Once again, she changed her route and kept glancing over her shoulder to ensure she wasn’t followed. It seemed the imperial’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

A quick knock on the door and he answered, beckoning her inside. The place still stunk of skooma and just a whiff of the air made the inside of Ash’s skull tingle longingly. She ignored it as best she could.

"We need an Ashlander informant,” Caius said abruptly once he closed the door. Just as Ash opened her mouth, he then added, “a _reliable_ one, not a ragtag random you picked up off the streets.”

Ash cocked a brow, leaning against the table and crossing her arms.

“And so we ask…?”

“I have heard of a fellow in Ald'ruhn named Hassour Zainsubani, an Ashlander who left the Wastes to become a wealthy trader.”

“One of the Velothi?” she asked, recalling what Julan had told her when they got rid of the racists who had been harassing Huleeya in the Black Shalk Cornerclub.

Caius nodded.

“They say the Ashlanders like to give and receive presents. Take these 100 drakes.” He pressed the bag into Ash’s hand and there was a familiar clink of gold coins. “Find out what Zainsubani likes, get him a gift, and give it to him. See if he will tell you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult. Then report back to me."

Ash cocked an eyebrow, not missing the twitch of Caius’ fingers. It had nothing to do with a shortage of sugar, considering the smell.

“Something wrong?” she asked, pocketing the gold.

“If there is, you’ll be the first to know,” he said evasively. “Just focus on your mission.”

There was no point pressing the old imperial any further when he wasn’t going to give her an answer. He’d been twitchy for a while now, and Ash quickly began to see why. As she made her way to the Fighter’s Guild to find Julan, she nearly walked headlong into a man coming around the corner.

“Sorry, I-” She stopped dead.

The man didn’t seem to have taken much notice of her. His eyes were glazed over and he looked strangely blissful for having a woman walk into him. Then he turned to her slowly, as though asleep.

"You cannot deny your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory," he sighed dreamily, and yet it sent a chill through Ash.

She took a step back and hissed, “what? What do you know about the Sixth House?”

“The Sixth House has risen,” he repeated dreamily. “And you will not stop his coming, Nerevar.”

Without warning, he snapped and clasped his hands around Ash’s throat. Caught off guard, she stumbled backwards, grasping his fingers. They struggled briefly and there was shouting from nearby when Ash managed to send a powerful shock through her attacker. He screeched painfully, his grip going lax, and Ash ripped herself free.

“Hold!” barked a guard, who raced over. “What is going on here?”

“He attacked me!” Ash snarled, massaging her throat.

“I saw it sera!” exclaimed a portly dunmer woman who shuffled out from the shelter of her front door. “This Outlander didn’t do a thing and he just went for her throat! Looked like he’d been possessed!”

The guard looked down at the man, who’d returned to muttering to himself.

"You cannot deny your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory," he repeated over and over again.

“I’ll see to it that this is handled,” the guard said brusquely. “Be on your way Outlander.”

Ash didn’t need telling twice and carried on towards the Fighter’s Guild, checking over her shoulder as she went, one hand massaging her throat. She could practically feel his fingers clenched over it, crushing her windpipe. She shivered nervously. Balmora suddenly didn’t feel quite so safe as it had when she arrived.

“I’m starting to see why Caius is so nervous,” she muttered to herself.

It wasn’t the only thing that was bothering her though. It was what that man had called her. Nerevar. The same name that the man in the golden mask kept calling her in her dreams, over and over again. It was unsettling in a way she couldn’t quite describe. It prickled at her skin and niggled at the back of her mind, not allowing her to simply ignore it. She'd have to tell Caius about this later.

Julan and Hasphat were busy sparring when Ash arrived, pausing only briefly to greet her before resuming. Ash sat on a bench to the side of the room and pulled out _The Real Barenziah_ to read whilst they worked, glancing up to watch every now and then.

Julan showed obvious improvement since she found him in the middle of being a clannfear chew toy. His form was better, stronger and stiffer, but he retained a fluidity as he matched Hasphat blow for blow and got in a few jabs himself. He blocked, parried to the side and-

Ash’s eyes widened as Julan threw Hasphat to the ground, the butt of his training staff resting in the centre of the imperial’s chest.

She grinned. That was the first time he’d ever beaten Hasphat.

“Not bad Julan. Not bad,” Hasphat guffawed as he got back to his feet, grasping the dunmer’s hand firmly. “You ever considered joining the Fighter’s Guild?”

“Get your own, Antabolis,” Ash called tucking her book away. “He’s mine.”

Julan grinned giddily as Hasphat slapped him on the back.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “I’ll not keep you any longer. I hope to see you both again soon.”

“So where are we headed this time?” Julan asked as they stepped back outside, the sky still dreary and grey overhead.

“Ald'ruhn. Caius wants me to speak to a Velothi trader about the Sixth House and Nerevarine Cults,” she replied.

Julan frowned. “Why a Velothi? Why does he need to ask an Ashlander anything about these things?”

Ash shrugged. “I have no idea. He never says why, he just tells me where to go and what to get.”

“And you don’t think that it’s strange at all?”

“He pays, I can buy food and have a roof over my head,” she replied simply. “I don’t tend to ask questions.”

Not a total lie really. He didn’t say why he wanted these things, and she didn’t ask. Still it was best to keep Julan’s knowledge of her own mission as limited as possible. If he knew she was operating on the Emperor’s behalf…

Addhiranirr’s anger still stung after all these years, and Julan’s would sting just as badly.

[]

Ald'ruhn hadn’t changed a bit since Ash’s last visit, including the vicious sandstorm blowing about. She had to hold her scarf over her face as she and Julan made their way towards the cornerclub - if Zainsubani wasn't there, then someone would know where to find him.

Once inside, Ash brushed the sand from her clothes, though with limited success. She really hated sand. It was a wonder that Julan wasn't complaining about it at the top of his lungs, if she were perfectly honest.

“Who are we looking for again?” he asked, dusting himself off.

“A Velothi trader called Hassour Zainsubani,” Ash replied, crossing over to the bar.

“Zainsubani?” Julan exclaimed. “I met him once, a long time ago.”

Ash turned to him, brow raised. “You're joking.”

He grinned cheekily. “You're not the only one who knows people.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head and proceeding to the bar before he got any more chances to stroke his ego over being a step ahead of her this time.

The dunmer at the bar looked up as they approached and nodded.

"Good day. I'm Boderi Farano, publican of the Ald Skar Inn here in Ald'ruhn. We rent beds, and I have a limited selection of goods for barter. If you're new here, I can also tell you where to look for other services, or a specific place nearby. If you're looking for someone in particular, I may be able to help."

“We’re looking for someone, name is Zainsubani,” said Ash.

Boderi blinked, then said, "I know the one you mean. He's a trader, and a wealthy one. He has his own room here. He was born an Ashlander, and knows their speech and custom, and has grown rich by trading with them for the things prized by Westerners. Is that what you wanted to know?"

“I need his help with something, but I need to get him a thoughtful gift. Any ideas?”

“Hm…” Borderi tapped her chin thoughtfully, all the while Julan was looking longingly at the bottles of sujamma sitting on the back shelf of the bar. "What sort of gift would he like? What indeed. He is so rich, I don't know.... Perhaps a book. His room is filled with them. I've seen them when I clean. They are all over the place."

It seemed Ash and Zainsubani had something in common then. She inclined her head.

“Thank you Boderi.”

“My pleasure, Outlander. Now, can I get you anything? A drink perhaps?”

Julan gave Ash a look and she sighed.

“You can buy your own drinks whilst I go to find a book,” she said flatly. “I'll see you later.”

Boderi gave her directions to the local bookshop and Ash stepped back into the storm with her goggles and scarf pulled up. The local bookshop was cramped, with tottering piles of thick tomes and innumerable volumes stacked towards the ceiling.

“Hello?” Ash called, carefully weaving through the shop when something caught her eye.

Bound in handsome black leather and embossed with silver letters and Daedric symbols was a _very_ familiar book.

“ _On History: Moon and Star_ …” Ash breathed, brushing her fingertips over the cover, trembling slightly.

The very book that was her whole reason for being in Morrowind in the first place. Very rare and very valuable, it was one of the few copies in existence. It was a comprehensive history on Indoril Nerevar, one of the few that went beyond vague details and incomplete references, and one of the even fewer that cared nothing for Temple doctrine.

“Can I be of any assistance?”

Ash nearly jumped a foot in the air, whirling around to see a very old, withered imperial man standing behind her, dressed in a drab robe. It took her a moment to realise she had the book in her hands.

“I was just looking,” she said hurriedly, putting the book back.

But the old imperial simply smiled. It then struck Ash that his eyes were milky white and blind.

“Is there anything in particular you are looking for?” he asked, shuffling past, feeling his way forwards with a frail hand.

“I need a thoughtful gift for Hassour Zainsubani,” she explained, fingers dragging longingly over the spine of _Moon and Star_ as she passed. “I heard he likes books, though I’m not certain what kind to get him.”

“Ah, Zainsubani,” the imperial sighed. “The trader, yes I know him. I believe I may have just the thing. Wait here a moment.”

He disappeared into the depths of the shop, leaving Ash at the counter covered in a mound of books, fingers tapping over the covers and spines anxiously. She tried not to let her mind drift, yet it still lingered on the book, sitting just in arm’s reach, so achingly close.

‘No,’ she thought firmly. ‘Not again. I can’t do this again…’

But it was _so tantalisingly close_. And the old man was blind, it could be days before he realised the book was gone.

‘ _No_ ,’ she implored the snide voice in the back of her mind even as her resolve crumbled. ‘Not again…’

“Here we are,” the imperial called cheerfully, shuffling back into view with a large book in his hands. “A copy of _Ashland Hymns_. I do believe Zainsubani lost his copy recently after his son went traipsing off into the wilds with it. A thoughtful gift indeed.”

Ash’s heart hammered in her throat which was so tight she felt like she was choking, even as she took the book and handed over the handful of gold coins.

“Thank you, and do come again.”

She couldn’t leave fast enough, her chest hurt so badly, guilt threatening to swallow her even as she left the book behind, as though even entertaining the thought of taking it was as bad as stealing it. She clutched _Ashland Hymns_ to her chest like it was a lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Had he been sober, Julan might have noticed something was wrong. As it was, he was so thoroughly inebriated, that Ash had to concern herself with avoiding another matze spillage.

“Ash,” he exclaimed cheerfully at the sight of her, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She could smell the alcohol on him and could hear the slur of his words. “I missed you _soooo_ much.”

‘You wouldn’t if you knew what I nearly did just now,’ she thought to herself, heart still twisting in her chest. But she said as dryly as ever, “I’m starting to think you have a problem.”

“Wha…? Me? No, no way,” he snorted, wobbling slightly.

Boderi seemed amused, raising an eyebrow at the pair. Ash sighed, shaking her head.

“Can we get a room so he can sleep it off?” she asked.

“Sure thing. Just head down stairs, and it’s the furthest on the right.”

Ash nodded gratefully, slinging Julan’s arm around her shoulders and gently steering him towards the stairs. Getting him down there without falling head-first down was quite the accomplishment, she decided. As was getting the bedroom door open with her foot, given her hands were preoccupied with keeping him upright.

“Sorry,” he murmured, words still slurring. “You’re looking after me again…”

“I expect you to do the same if I ever get this bad,” Ash grunted, hauling him through the door and depositing him on the bed.

"I will... promise."

Ash just shook her head disbelievingly and turned to lock the door when Julan sloppily took her wrist.

“Stay with me,” he said quietly.

She blinked, feeling her face flush at the request.

“Not while you're like this,” she said tersely.

But Julan shook his head. “N-not like _that_. Just… just sleeping… Okay?” He paused, then said, “you don’t have to.”

Ash paused a moment longer, then sighed. It couldn't hurt, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't entertained the thought in private. So she locked the door and approached the bed. A little messily, after kicking their boots off, they climbed in under the sheets and she allowed him to wrap his arms around her. He stunk of matze, but it was surprisingly nice to be close to him like this. A sense of security and warmth that left her insides tingling pleasantly, the residual guilt dribbling away for the moment.

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She ought not to feel so relaxed or comfortable, not when she felt so terrible.

“Night Ash…”

“Good night Julan.”


	11. Betrayal

When Ash woke up, it was very late in the afternoon and Julan’s arms were still wrapped firmly around her. It was very tempting to stay exactly as they were, but there was a reason they were in Ald’ruhn. So she carefully detangled herself, albeit reluctantly.

Some of her earlier guilt had abated somewhat, though her chest still felt tight as she pulled on her boots and straightened out her clothes. Her hair had loose of its usual twist and she pulled out the slides holding it in place. Thick black hair tumbled down past her shoulders, and she ran her fingers through it in an attempt to detangle it.

Putting it back up was simple enough, her fingers had become very well practiced and within minutes she felt reasonably presentable.

Julan was still fast asleep, so Ash crept out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her.  _ Ashland Hymns _ was tucked under her arm, and she could only hope Zainsubani would accept the gift.

It didn't take long to find him. He wore a strange assortment of clothes - some combination of chitin plating over fine settler’s clothing with numerous strings of beads, some of glass and others of wood and iron. It was a blend of Ashlander and settler garb, and he wore it very well. His face was tattooed with vivid green markings and his long red hair was worn in an intricate braid. He certainly stood out.

As Ash approached, he looked up from the book he was reading and offered a polite smile.

"I am Hassour Zainsubani. May you bless and be blessed,” he greeted. “You were the young woman with Julan, am I correct?”

“Yes, we’ve been travelling together. My name is Ash,” she replied. “I was told you might be able to help me, so I brought you this as a gift.”

She held out  _ Ashland Hymns _ , and Zainsubani looked at it with curiosity as he took it, running a hand over the cover.

"This is a gift for me? I am amazed. A copy of  _ Ashland Hymns _ ? Simple sentiments, simply stated.” He looked back up at Ash and smiled. “I gratefully accept your gift. My people have never loved the written word, and I lament their ignorant scorn for such common yet potent magic. I thank you, and I honor your courtesy, Ash. It would please me to return your courtesy by answering your questions. What is it I can help you with?"

He gestured to the vacant chair opposite from him and Ash took it.

“I wanted to ask you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine Cult,” she said. “Anything you know.”

A curious look crossed Zainsubani’s face for a brief moment, a small quirk of his eyebrow and a glimmer in his eyes. He shifted in his seat, reclining backwards slightly.

"I see. I will tell you what I can.”

He didn’t go on, watching Ash expectantly with his fingers laced together in his lap. 

So she asked, “what is the Nerevarine Cult exactly?”

"They worship the Great Ashkhan and Hortator, Nerevar Moon-and-Star, who in ages past destroyed the evil, godless dwarves and banished the treacherous Dagoth Ur and his foul hosts beneath Red Mountain,” Zainsubani replied, almost as though echoing words that were not truly his own. “The cult is of small consequence in Ashlander worship, and only among the Urshilaku do its followers have any influence. Others Ashlanders tribes share the sentiments of the cult, but regard the Nerevarine prophecies with suspicion and skepticism."

“The Urshilaku?”

"The Urshilaku are the Ashlanders of the northern Ashlands and the West Gash, in the northwest of Vvardenfell. Ashkhan Sul-Matuul is their chief, a brave and respected war leader, and Warrior-Protector of the Nerevarine cult. The Urshilaku camp moves with the herds, but usually lies close to the Sea of Ghosts."

“I see. And the Nerevarine Cult believes in the Nerevarine Prophecies, which are…?”

"I have heard it said that prophecies foretell the return of a reincarnated Nerevar, who shall drive the foreigners from the Ashlands and who shall cast down the false gods of the Temple, and restore the true worships of the Ancestors,” Zainsubani recited, almost tiredly. “It is a dream that would appeal to every Ashlander, but it is thought but a silly ancient legend, and little more, by many Ashlanders - myself included."

He gave Ash a rather pointed look at that last bit, which seemed to suggest that she be of the same opinion. Of course it didn’t matter to her all that much personally, but she did wonder what Caius (and by extension, the Emperor) wanted this information for.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about Ashlander culture?” she asked.

"There is too much to tell. Here. Take these notes. I've written here what an outlander like yourself should know about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult,” he said dryly. “But most of all, if you are visiting a camp, there are things you should know about courtesy and challenges among the Ashlanders.”

“Such as?”

"When challenged for sport, it is acceptable to decline. When challenged for honor, it is shameful to decline. Honor challenges come from offense given in speech or action, or may represent customary formal challenges of status or ritual. As for courtesy, Ashlanders may challenge a stranger who enters a yurt without invitation. Customs differ with different tribes, but leave when requested, and you may be forgiven. Be particularly careful about ashkhans - tribal chiefs - and wise women - tribal seers and counselors. Some are welcoming, some are hostile. Be courteous, and leave if requested. If offended, they may attack."

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever visit the Ashlanders,” she replied, rising from her seat and inclining her head respectfully. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

“You are welcome, Ash,” replied Zainsubani. “If you need anything at all, I am happy to help.”

Bowing her head politely, Ash excused herself and returned to the room where Julan was just stirring from his sleep. His hair was dishevelled and he moaned as his eyes cracked open. The hangover was kicking in then.

“That’s what happens when you drink too much,” Ash said with a teasing tone, tucking the notes into her pack as Julan disappeared back under the covers. “Maybe you’ll start to learn moderation.”

“Shuddup,” Julan grunted. “I feel like I lost a fight with a kagouti…”

“Or maybe a bantam guar.”

He made a noise that sounded like a raspberry and Ash just smirked.

“Hurry up and get ready so we can head back to Balmorra,” she said. “I’ve got what we need.”

Julan re-emerged from beneath the duvet, blinking a little confusedly.

“Already?”

Ash nodded. “Zainsubani accepted the gift and told me what I needed to know. So now I need to get back to Balmorra to report to Caius and get paid.”

There was a brief pause where the only sound was the muffled chatter of the bar upstairs and Ash rummaging through her pack, checking she had everything.

“Ash?”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you don’t know why Caius wants to know all of these things?” Julan asked slowly. “You aren’t the least bit curious?”

Ash paused for a second, then continued digging through the bag just to avoid looking over at him.

“I told you, I don’t know. He just asks me to do these things and pays me. Whatever he’s doing with the information is his business,” she replied simply. “It’s a job, and one that isn’t all that difficult really. Go here, do something for someone, get information, come back. Simple.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Now hurry up. I’d rather not find out what it’s like to walk through an ashstorm in the dead of night.”

[]

The trip back to Balmorra was a quiet one, even by siltstrider. The night was spent sleeping, and Ash spent the day updating her journal, scribbling down notes and sketching the things she’d seen since arriving on Vvardenfell. It was beginning to get rather full by now. She’d start running out of space at this rate. But even so, Julan’s questions lingered in the back of her mind.

She hadn’t been lying, not really. She had no idea what Caius and the Emperor wanted with all of this information on the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine, let alone what they were going to do with it. It was like they were looking for something, but needed someone to find the pieces. Someone like her. After all, a former prisoner was perfectly expendable. If something happened and she died, it was no real loss. It never was as far as she was concerned. And yet it continued to bother her, much as that damned book did.

Ash was all too familiar with guilt, and it persisted in following her like a very persistent nix-hound.

Still, Balmorra was an all too welcome sight after several hours of silence. Her standards had clearly dropped since arriving in Vvardenfell if she was happy to see the little backwater, but hopefully she could finish up this business with Caius as soon as possible. The less Julan suspected, the better.

Julan headed for the cornerclub as he always did whilst Ash headed for Caius’ home. The imperial unbolted the door and allowed her inside. She held out the notes to Caius, who took them, flicking through the pages before asking for a full report.

“Apparently the Nerevarine Cult has sway only with the Urshilaku clan,” Ash explained as they sat at the table. “The other clans tend to regard the prophecies as superstition.”

Caius nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“I see. Well done. But you should keep these,” he said, passing the notes back to Ash. “You’re going to need them. I’m promoting you, and sending you to speak with the Urshilaku camp to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. But first…” He sighed, lacing his fingers together on the table surface. He gave Ash a very serious look. “I think it’s time I tell you what’s going on here, and why you were sent here. Why you were  _ really _ sent here.”

Ash frowned, cocking her head to one side slightly as she waited silently, her chest suddenly feeling tight. Her finger itched and she twisted the ring resting there, like a nervous twitch.

“The Emperor and his advisor think you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies,” Caius said with the utmost seriousness.

Ash blinked. Then blinked again. Then three more times before a  _ laugh _ escaped her lips. A short, breath of disbelief as she shook her head, looking down at the table.

“No. No, you’re wrong,” she said, more to herself than him. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m afraid Advisor Daryvarn would disagree,” Caius replied firmly. “And I’ve known her long enough that I trust her judgement in these matters.”

“Damn what Daryvarn thinks!” Ash barked, any facade of humour disappearing. “She’s wrong, I can’t be the Nerevarine!”

She couldn’t even begin to imagine Julan’s reaction if he were to find out. Anger, betrayal, indignation… and that was the least of her worries.

“ _ An individual born under a certain sign, to uncertain parents _ ,” Caius recited bluntly. “You never knew your parents, and you were born under the Ritual, yes?”

“How did you-?!”

“It was in Daryvarn’s report,” he cut over. “The package you delivered the day you turned up on my doorstep contained everything she knew, as well as my orders on the matter. This is why you were pulled out of that prison, Ash. His Majesty ordered your release into my custody so that you might satisfy the terms of the prophecy and become Nerevarine.”

Ash just shook her head, muttering ‘no’ under her breath over and over again, as though it might make him take it all back. Instead Caius got to his feet and pulled up a looser floorboard under his bed. From a hidden cache, he pulled out the same package Ash had first delivered to him, no longer sealed.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “A decoded copy of the message that you were sent with. It will explain everything.”

Ash hesitated, hands trembling as she took the letter and unfolded it.

_ \-- _

_ Spymaster Caius Cosades _

_ Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades _

_ Director of Imperial Intelligence in Vvardenfell District, Eastern Provinces _

 

_ I have the honor to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Velyne Drals, a dunmer of no rank or consequence. _

_ Drals has been released from prison by his Majesty's authority and sent to you with this missive. She is to be entered as a Novice in the Imperial Order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned. _

_ His Majesty's particular wishes are as follows. _

_ A local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and shall reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. This orphan and outcast is called in legend the "Nerevarine," and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar. _

_ Drals has the appearance of meeting the conditions of this local superstition. Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that she shall, insofar as is possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and shall become the Nerevarine. _

_ Though this prophecy is indeed only an ancient local superstition, his Majesty has taken counsel on this matter with his most expert informants and confidants, and his Majesty is persuaded that the prophecy is genuine and significant, either in its entirety, or in its several parts, and he earnestly demands you treat this matter with the utmost seriousness. _

_ Certain aspects of this ancient superstition are described at the end of this document, and further materials will be forthcoming by courier at the earliest occasion. It will, of course, be necessary that you acquaint yourself better with the details of this ancient superstition from your local sources. Since this matter intimately concerns Drals, it is expected that you will employ her to gather information on this subject. His Majesty has taken a great personal interest in the legends and prophecies of the Nerevarine, and eagerly awaits reports your reports. _

 

_ I have the honor to be, Sir, your most Humble and Obedient Servant, _

_ Glabrio Bellienus _

_ Personal Secretary to the Emperor _

\--

There was a long silence as Ash read the letter over and over again. It was her name on the parchment. Her name written several times over, there was no mistake. But there  _ had _ to be. There was no way-!

"As you'll see in the decoded message, the Emperor says you have the 'appearance' of satisfying the conditions of the prophecy, due to everything I just told you,” Caius said, a little more gently. No doubt he knew how shocking this was for her. “Now, the question  _ I’ve  _ had since you turned up at my door is this; do you  _ really  _ satisfy the prophecy? Are you  _ really  _ the prophesied Nerevarine?”

He walked over to the tiny, grime-covered square window in the far wall, staring out of it with his hands folded behind his back.

“At first, I thought we were just supposed to create a persuasive impostor,” he admitted, “now I don't know  _ what _ to think. But I  _ am _ sure of one thing,  _ Velyne _ . This is  _ not _ just primitive superstition, and we  _ will _ treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands."

He looked back at her, giving her a very serious look.

“Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa are the heads of the Nerevarine cult. I’m sending you to speak to them.”

“Caius-”

“Tell them your story and have them test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. As heads of the Nerevarine cult, they can best judge whether you satisfy the prophecies. When you've spoken with them, report back to me.”

Ash didn’t know what to think. She just rose to her feet and stepped out of the door, her mind blank and racing at the same time. Nerevarine.  _ Her _ . But she was just an Outlander, an ex-prisoner of no importance. How could she  _ possibly _ -?

She didn’t get time to think much on it. She looked up just in time to see a very angry Julan marching in her direction.

“You faithless traitor!” he roared. “You lying n’wah!”

Ash stared, stunned. “Julan, what-?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Velyne Drals!” he snarled. “I knew something was up! I knew there were things you weren’t telling me! But this!” His fists were clenched, his face contorted into a look of pure fury. “You’re an Imperial Spy!”

He called her by name… He  _ knew _ her  _ name _ .

“Were… Were you  _ spying _ on me?!” she snapped incredulously, fury and horror rising in her gut. 

“I thought I could trust you…I had even idiotically thought that I started to think I might...” he ranted, as though he was barely listening to her. He shook his head. “Forget that now… _ now _ you have betrayed me in the  _ worst _ possible way!”

“I betrayed  _ you _ ?! If you were going to spy on my  _ private conversation _ , you’d realise that I had  _ no  _ idea what was really going on, you s’wit!”

“You accuse  _ me  _ of spying?" he spat. “ _ You’re _ the spy, Velyne Drals! An  _ Imperial _ spy! Of all people, I never thought  _ you  _ would spy for my most hated enemies. And that's not even the worst of it!"

"Go on, then, Julan. What  _ is  _ the worst of it?" Ash snapped, like prodding a nest of wasps.

"You're trying to pass yourself off as the  _ Nerevarine!”  _ He all but shrieked, and Ash knew it wouldn’t be long before  _ someone _ came to investigate the noise. “ _ You! An Outlander!  _ How  _ dare  _ you mock me like that! And not just me...my people, my religion and my entire  _ culture!" _

“Oh like I have a choice in the matter? I never asked to get dumped here! I had no idea why they sent me here until just a minute ago! I didn’t have a damn say in it! You think they care at all about what I think about any of this?!”

"I don't give a damn!  _ Of course _ you have a say! You're standing there, preparing to go to the Urshilaku and con them into accepting you as the fulfilment of the prophecies! It's the most  _ offensive and ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" _

“ _ Con them _ ?!” She shoved Julan roughly, her chest so painfully tight it felt like she might tear in two. A very familiar feeling, to be honest. “I’m going to them so they can  _ test  _ me, you s’wit. Then they’ll decide, and if I’m lucky, they’ll tell me that I’m  _ not _ the Nerevarine so I can get back to my fucking life!"

She could have sworn she saw Julan flinch, but she just didn’t care.

“But then that doesn’t matter to you, does it? No, it’s all about you!” she snarled, unable to stop, even as her tone became high and mocking. “Ooh, my feelings got hurt because some old cretin sent some girl here without telling her why, but I’ll take it out on her anyway-!”

“Don’t you change the subject!” he retorted harshly. “You  _ lied  _ to me! Gods, you must have been laughing all along."

“Look, I knew Caius was an agent for the Emperor. I didn’t know what they wanted until now. But I didn’t tell you who he was for this exact reason!”

“Oh, so I’m overreacting now am I?”

“Yes you are!”

“You’re a spy! A spy for the Empire! And I will  _ never  _ forgive you, understand?”

There it was again. That feeling of being ripped in two. But it wasn’t really into two anymore. Two for Addhiranirr, four for Ayrea, and now eight for Julan. Torn into so many pieces over other people. Ash felt her eyes burning.

“Then go,” she said darkly, stalking past him. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

But Julan wasn’t content to just leave it at that. He grabbed her arm, made to turn her back and Ash ripped herself free from his grip.

“Get off of me!” she growled.

“You think you’re getting rid of me of me  _ that  _ easily?” He scoffed. “Well, think again, f’lah. You think I'm going to sit back and let you mislead my people?"

“You think they’ll listen to an outcast who nearly got eaten by clannfear?” Ash laughed harshly.

"Go on, then, twist the knife. You've  _ already _ buried it in my back,” he spat, though he didn’t try to grab her again. “Yes, I'm an outcast. Yes no one will listen to a word I say. But I  _ have _ to try. I  _ can't _ let you do this. You'll have to kill me."

Another long, agonising silence fell, the two of them deadlocked with razorsharp glares. Ash was the one who broke it.

“You know I can’t do that.”


	12. Initiation

The trip north to the Urshilaku camp was filled with long stony silences, with the occasional pointed glare from Julan. Ash - Velyne - did her best to ignore him and the cold swoop of shame in her abdomen every time she made the mistake of glancing his way. She couldn’t hide it anymore, the reason she was sent here. Perhaps it would have been best if he’d just known the bookstore story. He couldn’t hate her nearly as much for that as he did for this.

And could she blame him really? He’d spent his whole life being told that the path of the Nerevarine was his, and then some random Outlander gets sent by some faraway Emperor to take it from him. It wasn’t fair for him to take it out on her, but was his anger really so baseless?

And now there was no point in hiding behind the old nickname anymore either. For so long she’d just been Ash. Velyne was supposed to be a shadow, a ghost of an unpleasant past, a thief and skooma addict that had gotten her little sister killed. But now it felt like maybe Ash was the imposter, a way to try and hide from what she had done, and Velyne was who she’d been all along, never to be truly rid of the past. It was tricky to get her head around at times, and the silent treatment wasn’t helping at the moment.

“It’s getting dark,” Velyne pointed out as the sun sunk below the hills. “We should make camp.”

Julan merely grunted, careful to keep a short distance as Velyne dropped her pack in the shadow of a cliff. The surrounding boulders provided some decent shelter from the elements, and hopefully kept them out of sight of any wildlife or bandits that might be roaming the area.

Velyne tried not to pay any mind to the space spanning herself and Julan, aware of how painful it was to think about. How was it only now she ached to be held close, to feel the warmth of another against her, arms wrapped protectively around her, a heart beating just beneath her ear, proving the continued survival of someone she held beloved? Just thinking about it made her mind wander traitorously to Addhiranirr, of those nights they laid together, murmuring quietly into the darkness about the life they hoped to have some day.

‘I need to stop getting carried away in romantic daydreams,’ she thought darkly as she carefully arranged some stones and twigs into a small fire pit. A bit of scrap paper from the back of her journal and a click of her fingers, and their campsite was washed in a gentle orange glow.

Velyne chanced a glance at Julan. He had already settled down to read, but his eyes were fixed in one spot. Pretending to read then. He was so determined not to engage her at all, so fixed on being her shadow to ensure she couldn’t ‘trick’ the Urshilaku into accepting her as Nerevarine.

"We're nearing the Urshilaku Camp now,” Julan said suddenly, causing Velyne to flinch. He hadn’t said a word in the last two weeks. “I suppose you'll want to speak to their Ashkhan.”

“That was the idea,” she replied flatly.

"So, what will you tell them?” he demanded. “They'll just _laugh_ at you, you know, Drals. You're an Outlander; so you could never be the Nerevarine. Why are you even _bothering?"_

“Because I want answers, same as you,” she replied tersely. “I was sent here to be a pawn of some sort, and I want to know why. And if that means having the Urshilaku test me, then so be it.”

"Well, I say you're _still_ wasting your time," he snorted in disbelief.

“Show me where I asked for your opinion,” she said bluntly. “And do me a favour. Don’t go screaming that I’m an Imperial Spy-”

“You _are_ an Imperial Spy,” he cut in.

“Otherwise neither of us will find out what’s really going on,” Velyne continued, ignoring him. “You stay quiet, I take this test and we find out if the Emperor is right or not. If he is then… Well, we’ll see what happens.”

“And if not?”

“And if not, I tell Caius that I’m not the Nerevarine, that the Emperor can kindly kiss my arse and… I dunno, keep you from getting killed by clannfear again?”

That last point seemed laughable to Velyne, to even entertain the thought Julan would even still want her around once the matter was settled. But even so, she swore she spotted the ghost of a smile on Julan’s face, even as he quickly retrained his expression into a scowl.

“I don’t need the help of an Imperial Spy,” he snorted.

“Except you did and you do, and even your mother knows it.”

“If my mother knew-!” He caught himself, then turned away. “Whatever.”

Sensing that the conversation was over, Velyne turned back to her journal and opened it to the next clean page and began her latest update. There wasn’t much to write, except:

_I’ve got the feeling that Julan hates not talking to me almost as much as I hate not talking to him._

[]

The Urshilaku camp was nestled against a rock ridge, sheltering it from the worst of the wind. The camp itself was surprisingly lively, quite unlike anything Velyne had seen in Cyrodiil. A series of yurts decorated with skins and colourful beads stood boldly against the grey of the surrounding ashlands, as did their inhabitants.

Children weaved through the legs of the adults, shouting in their native dunmeris tongue in a dialect that Velyne could only understand parts of. The elders were so busy that at first, no one paid Velyne and Julan much mind at first. Until some began to whisper and glance their way suspiciously. Finally, a stout, grey haired dunmer woman stepped in their path.

“What is your business here, Outlander?” she demanded, eying them both sharply.

“My name is Velyne Drals. I was sent to speak to Nibani Maesa and Sul-Matuul.”

There was a wave of whispers that made Velyne think of angry bees, all too aware that even the children had stopped to stare at the strangers now. They seemed uncertain, not sure if they should be frightened or curious.

“And why is that?” the old mer asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Velyne swallowed hard. “I think I may be able to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies.”

There was a ripple of gasps and angry whispers. One wrong move, and there was a good chance they might start drawing weapons, and Velyne knew that Julan wouldn’t try to help her if they did.

"I do not believe what I am hearing,” the old mer finally muttered, shaking her head, though she didn’t seem angry. Perhaps amused was more accurate, if the quirk of her lips could be trusted. “You think you are the Nerevarine, and you wish to speak to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa.”

"I do."

She stepped closer to Velyne, reaching for her face. Velyne noticed her nails was sharpened like talons, and a series of intricate tattoos twined around her wrist and up her arm. She was adorned with beads.

Clasping Velyne’s chin, she tugged her head down to get a better look at her face, crimson eyes squinting as she turned her head from side to side.

“You do not look like the Nerevarine,” she said, releasing Velyne. Before anyone could say a word however, she then added with a laugh, “But you do not speak like a fool, or a madman. This is a puzzle, I tell you.”

“So… what do I do?” Velyne asked, relaxing slightly now it was clear the old mer wasn’t going to send her away… or worse.

“Do what you came to do,” she said simply, waving a hand airily. “First, go speak with Zabamund in his yurt. He is a gulakhan, Sul-Matuul's champion, and _he_ will decide what is right. If Zabamund gives you permission - which should be easy to win with gold - then you may enter the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul."

She pointed the pair in the direction of Zabamund, before chivying everyone else back to their business like some kind of motherhen. Still, it was hard for Velyne to ignore the feeling of relief sinking into her chest. That could have gone worse. Now she just needed Zabamund to listen and allow her to speak with Sul-Matuul.

The yurt stood alongside the Ashkhan’s. Velyne took a moment to draw a breath before pushing the flap to one side and stepping inside. The yurt was warm, with a fire pit burning in the centre. Trophies stood on display against the walls - the head of a kagouti far larger than any Velyne had ever encountered was perhaps the most prominent. Then there was Zabamund himself.

It seemed he must’ve been informed of their arrival before hand, as he did not seem shocked at the presence of strangers in his yurt. He sat by the fire, cross-legged, watching calmly. He gestured for Velyne to sit.

“Talk, Outlander,” he said in calm, deep voice. “Speak with respect and I will listen.”

So she did. Velyne told him everything she could, whilst leaving out the parts about Caius and the Blades. Julan kept throwing scowls in her direction, though a short sharp glare kept his mouth shut before he could start screaming about spies.

When she finally finished her story, Zabamund nodded slowly.

"These are not simple matters, Outlander,” he said gravely, meeting Velyne’s eye with the utmost seriousness. Velyne reached into her pocket and pulled out a fistfull of gold pieces, holding them out across the fire.

“It _is_ customary among the Ashlanders to present a thoughtful gift, yes?”

Zabamund cocked an eyebrow and smiled slyly as he took the offered gold.

“You know a great deal more than I would have thought. And some of what you say is news even to _me_."

“So what do I do?”

Zabamund looked thoughtful for a moment, then conceded.

"I... _believe_ you should speak to Sul-Matuul. Perhaps he will be angry with me, but I think I can bear that. Go to the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul. Ask him your questions, and don't forget to tell him I have sent you."

Velyne got to her feet and bowed politely before exiting the yurt. Sul-Matuul’s was the yurt nextdoor, the very centre of the camp.

Sul-Matuul was not quite as friendly as his Champion, if the dark glare he gave Velyne and Julan was any measure. He stood, broad shouldered and imposing.

“Outlander,” he said firmly. “Pray tell, on what grounds do you come to me without invitation?”

“Zabamund sent me to speak with you,” Velyne replied, keeping her own face expressionless and unreadable. She’d dealt with enough guards and difficult clients in the past to know how to keep her face from betraying her.

“There must be a good reason then, if my Champion sent you," he said. "Who are you?”

“I am Velyne Drals, and I’m here because I think I fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies.”

Sul-Matuul stared for a moment, as though she might have grown a second head. His next words were said with a laugh.

"You think _you_ fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies, do you?" he asked, clearly amused. "You wish to be tested to see if you are the Nerevarine?”

“If that’s possible,” she replied coolly. “Surely you, if anyone, would know.”

"Unfortunately, I’m afraid it won’t be that simple."

“And why is that?”

"Because, you see, no _Outlander_ may join the Nerevarine cult," he said, voice still carrying that tone of disbelieving amusement. "If you were a _Clanfriend_ \- an adopted member of the Ashlander tribes - then perhaps. Luckily for you, I have an initiation rite in mind."

Velyne cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“Tell me.”

"If you pass this rite, I will adopt you as a Clanfriend of the Ashlanders," he continued. "And then I will submit you to Nibani Maesa - our new wisewoman - who is skilled in oracles and mysteries, and who will test you against the prophecies."

“Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it,” Velyne repeated, letting an edge of confidence slip into her voice. She wasn’t going to let him assume she was a coward, or that she wasn’t completely serious. If she was going to get answers, this was the only way.

"To be adopted into the tribe, you must undergo a harrowing,” he explained. “In a harrowing, you will be judged by the spirits and ancestors to see if you are worthy. So you must go to the Urshilaku Burial Caverns and fetch me Sul-Senipul's Bonebiter Bow."

That seemed… odd. If there was one thing Velyne knew for certain, it’s that the Ashlanders and ‘civilised’ dunmer had one thing in common, and that was a reverence for their ancestors. They didn’t exactly take kindly to people barging into their tombs and disturbing their resting places.

He was up to something.

"Sul-Senipul was my father, and his spirit guards his bonemold long bow deep in the burial caverns. Return to me with this bow, and I will adopt you into the Ashlander tribes as a Clanfriend."

The look Sul-Matuul gave her was a daring one, challenging her to take the deal. He _wanted_ her to try, but she doubted it was for any altruistic reason.

So Velyne met his gaze.

“How do I get there?”

[]

The burial caverns weren’t hard to find following Sul-Matuul’s directions. It was easy to miss though. The entrance was a small wooden door set into the cliffside, very missable in the long shadows cast by the midday sun.

Julan had stayed silent around the other Ashlanders as promised, but it wasn’t to last.

“You’re not _actually_ going in there, are you?” he asked once the door was in sight. Was that a note of concern in his voice?

“I told you I was taking this seriously, didn’t I?” she replied coolly. “If this is the only way to get answers, then so be it.”

She made to push the door open when Julan threw an arm in her way, blocking the way forward.

“I am going to give you until the count of three to get out of my way-!”

"Look, listen to me, would you?" he snapped. Yes that was definitely concern in his eyes. He was terrible at hiding his emotions. "This isn't about _us_ anymore. I have a bad feeling about this...You don't know my people like I do. You think this is an initiation, but it’s not. It's a _deathtrap_.”

“And I should listen to you because...?”

“Just _trust_ me on this, Ash. Sul-Matuul has _no_ intention of making a Clanfriend; he just wants to get rid of you."

“Oh like you care,” she snapped. “If I’m dead, then I can’t steal your spotlight anymore, can I?”

He winced, evidently hurt by the barb.

‘Good,’ Velyne thought savagely before continuing.

“I’m going in there. You can come with me or you can leave; your choice.”

“Of course I’m coming,” he responded icily, but then, almost as an afterthought added, “Someone has to make sure you treat this sacred place with respect!”

[]

The inside of the caverns was as dark and gloomy as any other tomb, though judging from the water now drenching Velyne from head to toe, it was also the source of some sort of underwater spring.

“Drals?” Julan called uncertainly, peering over the edge of the path.

“I slipped,” she replied bluntly, clambering back out from the frigid water. “And unfortunately for Sul-Matuul, it didn’t kill me.”

Julan snorted before quickly catching himself.

“Sul-Senipul’s body is through here,” he said with as much disinterest as he could muster.

The burial caverns had not quite proven out as the deathtrap that Julan seemed to think it was, and yet even now, Velyne couldn’t help but suspect that he was right. Ever since stepping foot inside, she couldn’t shake the feeling that _someone_ was watching them. And given her experience with ruins in the past, particularly Cyrodiil’s Ayleid variety, the feeling was almost certainly founded.

It didn’t take long to locate the Bonebiter bow. It was very handsome, carved from the bones of some very large animal, the shaft smooth under Velyne’s palm as she picked it up.

“One Bonebiter bow, ready to deliver,” she said smoothly, slinging it over her shoulder. “Now, let’s get out of here so we can-”

She was cut off by a blood curdling shriek and spun around just in time to see a towering, ghostly creature. Its face - if it could be called that - was a skull and had no expression, yet Velyne could _feel_ the rage rolling off of it. So this was Sul-Matuul’s death trap. Bastard!

“Ash-!”

“Kill first, talk later!” she barked at Julan, raising a handful of fire. Her spear would be useless against a ghost, so magic was their only solution. It wasn’t to be that easy though.

The ghostly creature continued to shriek and wail as it tossed spells in all directions, bearing down on Velyne in particular. She’d been the one to disturb it by taking the bow after all.

Finally, a well placed lightning bolt struck the creature down. It let out a final ghastly wail before dissolving into a puddle of ectoplasm. Velyne stared at it for a few moments, breathing hard, magicka reserves depleted.

“Well… that was interesting,” she panted. “Let’s get out of here, before anything else shows up.”

Julan nodded, following her out of the tomb silently back out into the harsh Vvardenfell sun. It was warm though, much more pleasant than the cold damp caverns.

“Okay, we have the bow,” Velyne said, actually rather happily. “Now let’s get back to camp. I can’t wait to see the look on Sul-Matuul’s face when he sees that we succeeded.”

[]

Sul-Matuul was waiting outside of his yurt, along with his tribe, all of whom watched the approaching pair with great interest. Needless to say that ‘surprise’ was a bit of an understatement when describing the brief look that flashed across the Ashkhan’s face before being replaced by a look of utmost seriousness. He hadn’t expected them to come back at all, let alone successful with the bow in hand. He looked at Velyne expectantly, hands folded behind his back.

She held out the bow, and he took it, running his hands over the shaft and along the string. His eyes widened.

"This is my father's Bonebiter Bow,” he confirmed, looking back to Velyne. "You have completed the initiation rite, and I am a mer of my word. I name you, Velyne Drals, Clanfriend of the Urshilaku."

The gathered Ashlanders murmured among themselves, some shaking their heads, others seeming to approve. The old mer from earlier was nodding her head, beaming.

"Keep my father's bow, and bear it with honor," said Sul-Matuul, handing the bow back.

Velyne wouldn’t pretend to be any great archer, but it would be rude to refuse.

“Thank you,” she said graciously, bowing her head.

"You are a friend of our tribe, and may rest in any Urshilaku bed, but do not harm other tribe members, or take their things. And now I will fulfill my other promise. Go to the wise woman's yurt, and Nibani Maesa shall examine you, and test you against the Nerevarine prophecies."

He pointed them in the direction of the yurt before returning to his own, and the rest of the tribe dispersed, some pausing to congratulate Velyne on her success. The children in particular seemed eager to speak with an Outlander now she was a friend, but their parents shooed them away.

Nibani waited inside her yurt, bending over a text in front of her. She looked up as Velyne and Julan stepped inside, raising a brow.

“So, _you’re_ the one they told me about,” she began, looking Velyne up and down for a few moments. Her face set. “You are hard-headed. And ignorant."

Velyne frowned, but didn’t argue. She’d just gotten them to accept her as Clanfriend, she didn’t need them to toss her out over a harsh observation.

"But perhaps it is not your fault," she went on. "My lord ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies. He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord ashkhan says. So go ahead. Ask your questions, and I will test you."

“What can you tell me about the Nerevarine Prophecy?” Velyne asked, opting against sitting without invitation. Best not to make assumptions.

"There are _many_ Nerevarine prophecies, child, and they suggest _many_ things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. The lost prophecies…"

“I’m familiar with the concept of uncertain parents,” Velyne murmured. When Nibani gave her a questioning look, she explained. “I’ve always been alone. My earliest memory is wandering into the city of Cheydinhal, with no family to speak of. I don’t know who birthed me or where I come from. At all.”

“And you were born under the Ritual?” Velyne nodded. "Then if what you say is true, you are indeed born on a certain day of uncertain parents. This is part of the prophecy. But many have the same birthday, and many are not sure of their parents. It is interesting. But it does not make you the Nerevarine."

“But do I pass the test?” Velyne asked, confused.

"You are _not_ the Nerevarine, Velyne Drals,” Nibani said matter-of-factly. “You are one who may _become_ the Nerevarine. It is a puzzle, and a hard one. But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. More important is the question: do you choose to be the Nerevarine?” She asked. When Velyne didn’t answer, she said, “then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple. Find the lost prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide.”

Nibani reached into an old carved chest and pulled out copies of The Stranger and The Seven Visions. Velyne took them and tucked them into her pack carefully.

“Now, I have told you all I know. Go. Think on what I've told you. And do what must be done." She then turned to Julan and eyed him curiously.

“What is your name, child?” she asked.

“Julan Kaushibael… Why?”

Suddenly, Nibani’s eyes began to sparkle with amusement.

“Kaushibael…I know that name. Would you perhaps be related to a Mashti Kaushibael?”

Julan’s eyes widened.

“Mashti? She’s my mother,” he replied, frowning. “You _knew_ her?”

“Oh, yes,” said Nibani. She smiled slightly. “The last I had heard, she ran away and married an Ahemmusa man. Is she still with them?”

[]

“She never told me she was married!” Julan balked as they left the camp, seemingly forgetting that he was supposed to be giving Velyne the silent treatment. She just rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know she was Urshilaku once. Maybe she spread a rumor so she could get away but…”

He trailed off, as though remembering he was supposed to be angry and not speaking to her because she was a traitorous Imperial Spy.

“Actually… can we… can we talk, about all… this?” he asked haltingly, coming to a stop.

“About all what?” asked Velyne. “About what Nibani said?”

He shook his head. “About… _us_.” Dread rose in Velyne’s throat at those words, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “I've been thinking…About a lot of things really, but mainly about your being forced to be this false incarnate."

“Dagon’s balls, do you really want to have another fight about this?” she groaned, already planning the various options she could take to avoid this confrontation.

"No! Not really. Now, would you shut up and let me finish!" His cheeks were a dark shade of grey. "You lied to me about being a spy for the Emperor, and I'm still not happy about it. And-"

"Julan, if you’re going to give me another lecture, I really don’t want to hear it.”

"Will you _please be quiet and let me finish?”_ he snapped. “Sheogorath, this isn’t _easy_ for me you know! Where was I? Oh, yes…And I'm not happy about you agreeing to pretend to be the Nerevarine for the Emperor, but…"

There was no agreement about this. Agreement to come to Vvardenfell, sure. Agreement to be upheld as a prophetic hero ...well, that was hidden in the fine print.

"But…as I said, I've been thinking...And I've been trying to imagine what I would have done, if I had been in your position.”

“Enlighten me,” Velyne replied bluntly, though she wouldn’t deny she was curious as to where this was going.

“...and...and I don't really know. I probably would have shouted a lot and ended up getting thrown back in prison…" He paused and fixed his eyes on her’s in a look of the utmost remorse. His next words were spoken softly. "So it occurred to me that maybe what I would have done in your situation wouldn't have been…very good."

Velyne shrugged. “Might have gotten your head chopped off, but hey, how bad could it be?”

A humourless joke really, more of a jab at him that wasn’t entirely fair. Julan frowned.

“They were going to execute you?”

There was a long pause as Velyne sighed heavily, suddenly becoming very interested in her fingernails.

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure they’d execute me for trying to steal a book-”

“Wait. You ended up here because you stole a _book_?!” Julan said incredulously.

“ _Tried_ to steal it,” Velyne corrected. “I… I know I shouldn’t have. It was a stupid thing to break my promise over, but I wanted it _so badly_. And I knew that Phinteus, the owner of the shop, would never sell it to some ‘grey skin rat’ like me.”

She still hated the man, the way he looked down his nose at everyone. She was so glad she got a chance to punch him in it before the guards managed to drag her away.

“They tossed me in a cell. I was there for a few days, when all of a sudden this dunmer woman comes to my cell and asks about… about my birthsign and my parents.” The air suddenly seemed to turn very cold as the implications dawned on Julan. “She left and came back the next day with a proposal for me. I could sit in that cell and await judgement, or I could be packed on a boat to Vvardenfell to carry out a task for the Emperor. I figured that being a pawn beat being dead.”

“So you really didn’t know until…”

“Until the conversation that you listened in on. It was as much a shock for me as it was for you,” she said, voice wavering as she went on. “I… still can’t really get my head around it. I’m nobody, Julan. Just a two-bit thief who got her little sister killed. The Nerevarine is supposed to be a hero right? I just… How could that ever be me?”

Julan seemed at a loss for words, hands fidgeting at his sides, like he was debating on whether or not to try and comfort her, or if she even wanted him to. So she took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, Julan I never meant to lie to you about how I ended up here. I should have told you what I knew sooner, but… I was afraid," she admitted. "Afraid that you would hate me and I… I liked… I didn’t-”

“Liked what?” he asked gently, a stark difference to his usual demeanour.

“I liked the way you looked at me,” Velyne confessed quietly. “I didn’t want that to go away.”

“I’m sorry too,” said Julan. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. And not listening to you, and for not thinking about your side of things. I’ve been an idiot and should have known that it wasn’t your fault that the Emperor is trying to manipulate you.”

Finally Velyne cracked a small smile. “You’re a thoughtless, self-centred, immature bastard. But you’re a forgiven one.”

Julan grinned, his cheeks flushed dark grey again.

"I... I like you a lot Ash.”

“Velyne.” He paused. “I can’t keep running from… from what I’ve done, and who I am. Ash… she’s not who I am. Call me Velyne.”

“Well okay… I _really_ like you Velyne. And even when I was really angry, I felt bad that we might never be on speaking terms again. I really am sorry, and I'm glad you forgive me. Now, we _should_ get moving, but first -"

He stepped closer, but Velyne placed a hand to his chest and stopped him in his tracks. He looked down at her, a mix of confusion and disappointment on his face.

“I… I need a little time before we… you know.” She sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready to leap back into that right away, you know? Just… a little time. Please?”

“Sure, as long as you need,” he said gently. “But can I get a hug at least?”

At that, Velyne _giggled_ and nodded.

“Hugs, I think I can do,” she agreed.

Grinning giddily, Julan wrapped his arms around Velyne, pulling her close against his chest and she melted into the touch. Oh she really did love being held like this. So many years of depriving herself from such a simple pleasure made the feeling of another pressed up against her near intoxicating, like she could never get enough. She was disappointed when he finally pulled away, tempted to pull him back in for more. But there would be time for that later.

“So…” A pause. “You really never knew your mother was married?”

He frowned slightly, shaking his head.

“Never. I’m still not sure I believe it but…”

“We’ll talk to her later,” Velyne promised. “At least we’ve gotten this meeting with the Urshilaku out of the way.”

“Yeah, I forgot!” Julan said brightly. “Nibani said you weren't the Nerevarine! So can we go back to adventuring now?”

"She said that I wasn't the Nerevarine, but that I might _become_ the Nerevarine… Whatever _that_ means…”

“That doesn’t mean anything, A- Velyne,” he said, quickly correcting himself. The name change would take time to get used it. “It's the way the prophecies work – anyone who fits the description could be the Incarnate in theory, but only one person will achieve it. That why we have failed Incarnates. It’s like what the Stranger says; ‘many fall but one remains.’”

Be that as it may, Velyne couldn’t deny her growing curiosity. And she still had questions that needed answers. After all, so far she fit the description. Why not keep going?

“Aren’t you a little curious about the prophesies, Julan? They might help,” she pointed out.

“Hmm…good point,” he said thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, you pretending to be the Nerevarine might not be so bad! The Temple and the Tribunal will focus on you as the Incarnate and assume I'm just a companion – when actually it's the other way round!"

Velyne cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, so I’m your decoy now?”

“I just meant, I just-!” He stopped mid-sentence. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Well you do make it so easy,” she laughed, glancing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set.

“We’re not getting back to Balmora tonight,” Julan said, following her gaze. “Let’s teleport to my mother’s for now and get some rest, then we’ll go back.”

Velyne nodded.

“Good idea.”

Julan held out a hand and Velyne took it, trying not to make it too obvious that the contact delighted her.

“You really do like being touched, don’t you?” Julan chuckled.

“Stay out of my head, Kaushibael, or I’ll give you a thick ear,” Velyne joked, grinning.

He just grinned back, and with a small amount of concentration, they disappeared with a crack.


	13. Shani

“Keep your arm steady, and draw all the way back to your cheek,” Julan instructed, carefully adjusting Velyne’s grip on the bow handle whilst guiding her hand on the string. Velyne kept her eyes fixed on the crude target they’d set up further along the beach, though she was enjoying the closeness between herself and Julan.

Since arriving at Mashti’s home several nights ago, the pair decided they were in need of a well earned break. With so much having happened in regards to the revelations behind the Nerevarine Prophecies, things had been stressful. A few days to relax and take a little time off couldn’t hurt, surely.

Julan had refused to take the Bonebiter bow when Velyne offered it to him, citing it was a gift from an Ashkhan, and passing it off to another would be badly mannered. Instead he offered to teach her how to shoot. She’d laughed initially at the thought of him teaching her, but he was actually a fairly decent marksman. Julan said most Ashlanders learned how to shoot young, as hunting was integral to the tribe’s survival, and he was no exception. Hence their current position.

Carefully, Julan eased back from Velyne once she was positioned correctly.

“Now… loose.”

She released the string and the arrow went flying, striking the target. Not quite a bullseye, but better than some of her earlier shots.

“You’re getting better at this,” Julan said brightly, beaming. “I bet you’ll be able to hunt for yourself soon, you know.”

“What, and worry about what else I would have to spend my coin on,” she joked, grinning. “Besides, animals  _ move _ . This training dummy of yours-” a cloth sack stuffed with straw and one of Mashti’s skulls balanced on top “-does not.”

Julan just laughed. “You’ll see, you’d be better than me so quickly.”

“Well at least you know it.”

“Oh hardy har har.”

They quickly fell silent as the flap of Mashti’s yurt was ripped back and the older mer herself emerged. Julan cleared his throat and went to retrieve Velyne’s arrows. They weren’t entirely sure if Mashti was aware of the extent of their relationship… or how she might react if she were to find out, considering the conversation they’d had the previous evening…

_ "So, any exes of  _ yours _ I should be aware of?” asked Velyne, pulling her hair out of its usual twist as she sat in Julan’s lap. _

_ Julan blinked, looking down at her. “Why do you ask?” _

_ Velyne shrugged, tugging her brush through her hair. “You saw my dirty laundry with Addhiranirr… Just curious really. It’s okay if you don’t-” _

_ “No, no it’s… fine.” Julan cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago though, and we were just kids really. Her name is Shani, we grew up together back when I used to have more contact with the Ahemmusa camp than I do these days. I always had a crush on her, but never actually expected her to feel the same way." _

_ He laughed humorlessly. _

_ “She did. Anyway we were nearly adults by that time and I'm sure you know how it is. Sneaking out at night to meet, hiding from our parents..." _

_ “Not really.” _

_ He cleared his throat, flushing slightly, as if he was only just remembering that she’d never had a parent in her life. And aside from Addhiranirr, love had been scarce. _

_ "Anyway… we uh, we thought we were really in love, us against the world, all the usual stuff." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Head in the clouds, more like." _

_ “What happened?” _

_ “My mother happened, that’s what," he said flatly. "She found out and told me to break it off with Shani.” _

_ Velyne blinked, then frowned. _

_ “Your  _ mother _ , doesn't even allow you to control your own love life?" Velyne could only wonder how much the old mer knew about herself and Julan right now. The thought of her catching them just talking like this, her sitting in his lap… A cold drop of horror planted itself in her chest just thinking about what Mashti would do. _

_ "You don't understand. My mother was right," he said gravely. "I didn't see that at the time, of course. I yelled, swore and absolutely refused. We had a huge row, and I left home in a rage. Lived in the mountains for a week and then the dreams started getting to me. I had time to think about everything, and sadly I realized my mother was right." _

_ “About what, exactly?” _

_ "My responsibility...my duty to my people, goes beyond my feelings for one person. Shani was distracting me. I was forgetting my sacred mission. If I really cared, I had to leave her to focus on my training. Anything else would've hurt her in the long run.”  _

_ There was a long silence before Julan went on.  _

_ “It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. She never forgave me. Maybe it would have ended anyway... but I still wonder how things might have turned out." _

_ Velyne didn’t reply immediately, continuing to brush her hair for a few minutes. _

_ “So then, if Shani was distracting… what am I?” she finally asked, not looking around at him. _

_ Julan didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to think.  _

_ “I’m… not sure yet. But if I feel like you keep me grounded,” he replied. “Make me remember what’s important, why I’m doing this.” _

_ Velyne smiled, setting her brush down before relaxing fully against Julan’s chest, his arms wrapping around her gently. _

_ “Good answer,” she whispered. _

Mashti strode over to Velyne in a manner that reminded the younger mer all too much of a hurricane. She stopped dead in front of her, crimson eyes boring into her.

“Outlander, if you are truly a friend, then prove it. I want you to perform a small task for me,” she said curtly. “ _ Without _ my son’s aid.”

“What is it you need?” 

“There are two women camped just south-east of this place. They are spies of my enemies in Ahemmusa camp, posing as outcasts,” Mashti spat. “I want them  _ dead _ .”

Velyne blinked, feeling somewhat alarmed by her intensity. Her eyes followed the direction Mashti was pointing in. Smoke curled into the sky - most likely a campfire.

“In faith, I would. But if I, or Julan, were to kill them, it would cause more strife with the Ahemmusa. I wish to avoid provoking the tribe further. I only wish to be left alone,” she explained. “You are an Outlander, so these women will doubtless attack you on sight. Thus, you cannot be blamed for their deaths, since it will be self-defense. Will you do it?”

“I will.” It was an opportunity to get into Mashti’s good books, and maybe reduce her chances of getting poisoned by the older mer.

Mashti nodded tersely, then turned on heel and returned to her yurt. Julan approached once she was gone, holding out the gathered arrows.

“Did I hear her right?” he asked apprehensively.

“Unless you heard her begging my forgiveness for that stinging hex she threw at me when we first met, then no. Probably not.” Velyne sighed, taking the arrows from Julan. “I’ll get it over with quick. Maybe get some practice in.”

He looked uncertain, but he didn’t argue. He certainly wasn’t one to go against his mother’s wishes, no matter how questionable they might be. Velyne wasn’t sure she liked it much either, but would the old mer really be demanding their deaths if she didn’t think they were a threat?

Maybe, but that was neither here nor there. Velyne had already agreed to the task, so there was no sense in backing out now. Not when it could get her reduced to cinders… or poisoned… or some other horrible fate Mashti was sure to be capable of bringing to life.

So Velyne took her bow and her spear and headed out into the grasslands. True enough the two women weren’t far from the camp at all, having chosen a perfect vantage where, if not for the camp fire smoke, they would be invisible. Velyne knelt down in the grass and drew her bow. Time to test herself on a moving target.

Nocking her arrow and drawing back on the bowstring, Velyne aimed for the mer closest to her. So far, both were completely unaware. 

The arrow went flying and struck the mer in the thigh. She screamed and her companion immediately began to throw spells in Velyne’s direction. They were proficient spellcasters it seemed, definitely more than mere outcasts. Velyne scrambled out of their line of fire, casting an invisibility spell and taking up her spear. If she could creep up on them, this would be over quickly.

“Where are you, you little s’wit?” barked one of the women.

Careful… She was so close now.

“Enough of this!” 

The other, the one with an arrow still protruding from her thigh, waved a hand and Velyne felt her cloak melt away, much to her horror.

“There you are!”

Velyne acted quickly, spearing the mer closest to her through the gut and hurling an ice spear at her companion. She blocked it easily with a ward, but wards were no good against a physical attack. Another jab of her spear, and Velyne skewered the other mer.

Satisfied that her task was complete, Velyne removed her arrow and cleared the sight of any sign of her involvement. It was also a good chance to find anything useful, considering they’d no longer need any of it. There was some gold and some rare alchemical ingredients, including a daedra heart, carefully wrapped. That could well be useful. Mashti had been complaining about not being able to get one for her latest potion. 

Once Velyne was done, she headed back in the direction of Mashti’s camp, only to be intercepted along the way.

“Psst!”

Velyne paused, looking around.

“Psst, down here!” 

She looked down to see another dunmer, one with dark red hair, was lying flat against the ground. An Ashlander, by the look of her.

“Get down Outlander, before you scare them away!” she hissed, gesturing in the direction of a couple of stray guar nearby.

Velyne did as she was told, crouching down.

“Busy, I take it?”

The mer snorted, grinning. “All the ruckus you made startled them. Made my job harder, but hey, where’s the fun in challenge right?” She glanced at the bow on Velyne’s back. “Saw you shoot earlier. You’re an amateur right?”

“Only started learning recently,” Velyne confessed.

“Well, maybe now is a good time for some practice.” The mer looked up, checking the guar again. “They seem calm now. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

She was oddly friendly for an Ashlander. Most were fairly hostile or indifferent to Outlanders and the settled dunmer, but she seemed really rather friendly.

She let Velyne watch her form and mimic it.

“Good. Now keep your breathing steady, aim and…”

Their arrows flew. Velyne’s caught one guar through the top of the head - a lucky shot really, right through the brain. The other mer caught it’s companion dead in the eye.

“Not bad, c’mon!”

She flew forwards, pulling a dagger and quickly cut the throats of both guar. Ensuring they were definitely dead. Velyne trailed behind, cocking an eyebrow.

“Impressive,” she noted. “I suppose you do this a lot?”

The mer chuckled, a little breathlessly. 

“Well obviously. And you’ve never hunted a day in your life, right?”

“I’ve found other ways of getting by,” Velyne said, shrugging. “A- Velyne.”

“Shani.” 

Oh. That was… unexpected. If Velyne’s surprise showed, Shani said nothing. And if Shani was anything like how Julan had described her, she would definitely have said something. 

“So, what’s an Outlander like yourself doing wandering around on your own like this?”

“Hunting guar, isn’t it obvious?” she replied dryly, gesturing to the fresh kills on the ground.

Shani giggled. “Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that.” She paused, looking thoughtfully at Velyne, as though she was trying to place her. “Oh… Oh.” Her face fell, and Velyne’s heart sank. She  _ knew _ . “Are you the Outlander that Julan Kaushibael’s been travelling with lately?”

“Did his mother tell you about that?” Velyne asked flatly. “I imagine she was singing with joy when she found out.”

Shani snorted. She suddenly seemed on guard, uncertain.

“So… where  _ is _ Julan?”

“Back at the camp,” said Velyne. “Probably trying to make sure he doesn’t give Mashti reason to kill him. He can be trying some days.”

“Only some days, huh?” Shani scoffed. “So has he told you about me? I bet he said I was clingy and demanding and argued with him all the time, I compared his lovely mother to a Hunger except without the charm and good looks, oh and I'm a cheat, liar, thief and troublemaker.”

Velyne frowned, feeling more confused and uncomfortable by the minute.

“He never said anything like that. Not to me at least,” she said reassuringly.

That seemed to surprise her.

“Not at all?”

Velyne shook her head, and Shani threw out her bottom lip.

"You should've heard some of the things he  _ did _ say, and some of it to my face.” She looked away, folding her arms over her chest. “It was  _ hurtful _ .”

“He can be an arse,” Velyne concurred. “I’ve noticed he’s got a habit of opening his mouth and letting words fall out.”

“And on that we can agree.” Shani sighed. “Well… I’d better get going. Need to get these back to camp.” She kicked one of the carcasses. “We can chat more another time, ‘kay?”

“Sure, sounds fun.”

“Oh, and Velyne was it? Whatever you do… Don’t trust a  _ word _ Mashti says.”

[]

Shani needn’t have warned Velyne about putting any measure of trust in Mashti, considering that the older mer had given her few reasons to do so. And with what Nibani had said about Mashti marrying and Julan being utterly unaware of the fact, perhaps it was time to put her reliability to the test.

Back at the camp, evening was settling in, the sky coloured various shades of orange, red and pink. Mashti sat by the cooking pot, staring out over the sea whilst the evening’s stew bubbled and boiled. Julan and Velyne sat nearby, with just enough space between them to keep her from getting too suspicious.

At the very least, she’d seemed genuinely grateful for Velyne’s help with her supposed spies and perhaps it would make her more pliable when it came to questioning.

“Mashti,” she began, drawing the older mer’s attention. “With respect, I would like to know more about you.”

Before she could decline, Velyne reached into her pack and pulled out the wrapped daedra heart, holding it out. Mashti took it, peering into the wrappings. Her eyes widened briefly, before she returned to her default disgruntled expression.

“You even present a thoughtful gift. You learn quickly,” she noted begrudgingly. “Very well. I was born to the Urshilaku, and I was respected there for my father was the chief of the tribe and my mother was a high-born Redoran slave-bride that he took in a raid. But one day, men of the Ahemmusa came on a trading mission. The spirits whispered to me that my destiny lay with them, so when they left the camp, I went with them.”

And yet Nibani had mentioned she’d specifically left to wed a man amongst the Ahemmusa. Unless that came later in the story - it was doubtful though.

"When my father discovered I was gone he was furious. I was barely eighteen and he had pledged me as a bride to one of his gulakhans. He disowned me, I never saw him, my mother or my home again. But my life with the Ahemmusa was not much happier. I trained in the ways of the wise women, and I was skilled. Too skilled. The petty jealousy of others made me an exile.”

No mention of any marriage whatsoever, as Julan had said. And direct contradiction to what Nibani had said. Strange.

“I do not like to speak of this, for even though it was long ago, wounds to the heart and honor do not heal,” she told went on. “There are those who I can never forgive, and those whom I would have forgiven had they but asked. It is too late now. That is all I am willing to say. It is painful to relive, Outlander.”

That was a sentiment Velyne could understand, and badgering the mer about the contradictions to her story surely couldn’t bring about anything good. Mashti was tolerating her on the basis of a very fragile peace - breaking that peace surely wouldn’t end well for one of them, and Velyne knew full well who would and wouldn’t come out of that in one piece.

A long silence passed, with no one saying much before Mashti declared that their meal was ready and dished out three bowls of stew. Velyne took hers, inclining her head in polite gratitude, and ate in silence.

As soon as she was finished, Mashti rose from her seat on the ground and retired for the evening, disappearing into her yurt. Julan let out a sigh of relief.

“Finally… it’s always so tense when she’s around.”

“That’s because one wrong word, and she might turn us both inside out. Well, she’d turn me inside out, and give you a slap on the wrists,” Velyne joked.

Julan snorted, grinning as he continued to eat. Then he paused.

“I saw you and Shani talking,” he said, finally. He then added hurriedly, “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping this time, I didn’t even hear what you said!”

Velyne raised an eyebrow, but didn’t scold him. Yet.

“I take it this is going somewhere?” she asked.

He shrugged, and Velyne sighed.

“She seemed certain that you’d told me horrible things about her, and was surprised when I told her otherwise,” she said. “Other than that she remarked on my archery, and said she had to get her kill back to the camp. That was it.”

Julan looked rather relieved. No doubt he was worried about some sort of confrontation between the two of them. He sidled closer to her, casting a wary glance in the direction of his mother’s yurt. He didn’t move away again, which meant he was certain Mashti wasn’t spying on them.

“So when are we heading back to Balmora?” he asked tentatively.

Velyne raised an eyebrow.

“You’re eager to get back already?”

He shrugged again. “Just wondering. We can’t stay on vacation forever.”

She leaned into his side and he put an arm around her.

“A few more days,” she replied. “I like it here. Even with your mother around.”

“Really?” he sounded genuinely surprised, but not displeased. “I guess a few more days couldn’t hurt then.”

[]

The next day saw Julan depart the camp to go hunting. The camp supplies were beginning to run low, and he insisted he would be fine on his own. 

“No running off to Vos to get drunk, okay?” Velyne joked as he left and he groaned, giving her a sad face in return. She only laughed, waving as he left. Being left behind with Mashti wasn’t exactly her idea of fun, but she wanted more practice with the Bonebiter bow. And she didn’t want to mess up his hunt with her amateur skills.

Mashti opted to spend the day in her yurt, mixing potions. Velyne was aware that the older mer was simply avoiding her, but she wasn’t going to complain. It meant having the beach to herself and not having to worry about the old mer seeing anything she shouldn’t.

“Velyne!” 

She looked over her shoulder to see Shani at the edge of the camp, waving her over. Even at this distance she was distinctive, with that bright red hair of her’s.

“C’mon, take a walk with me,” she said as Velyne approached. “I don’t want Mashti or Julan to overhear us.”

“Julan’s out hunting right now,” Velyne replied, though she fell into step alongside Shani anyway. “So what is it you want to talk to me about?”

Shani waited until they were a good distance from the camp before she started talking. Mostly about Julan, and some stories of when they were children. Most of them were fairly humorous, and if she was to be believed, Julan had always been bold, pig-headed, and tactless, all whilst having his heart in the right place. They actually ended up laughing a few times over some of her more ridiculous tales. Velyne was certain Shani was stretching the truth to breaking point every now and then, but other times she couldn’t help but think that everything Shani said sounded exactly like him.

“Me and Julan were best friends  _ first _ you know. Then lovers. Perhaps that was the mistake,” she admitted, as they started to draw closer to the Ahemmusa camp. “Maybe we should have stayed friends, but it's too late now. Everything is broken, I'm a fool to still be here."

“You’re still here for  _ him _ , aren’t you?” asked Velyne, suddenly feeling defensive. She knew she ought not to, but jealousy was an easy trap to fall into. Shani had known him so long, and knew him so much better than she did.

"Because he's making a terrible mistake!” Shani said forcefully. “His mother is a lunatic, and she's going to make him do something suicidally insane, but it’s all lies!”

Velyne frowned. “What do you mean, it’s all lies? Is this about his sacred mission?”

Shani laughed hollowly. “So, he's told you then? About being the Nerevarine? And all that stuff about being found in the wilderness as a baby? Babies don’t come from rocks, whatever Mashti says.”

“So you don’t believe Mashti’s version of events,” Velyne concluded.

“No, I don’t! I don’t believe a  _ word _ Mashti says,” Shani said firmly. “That's because I  _ know _ what really happened. Mashti  _ knows _ I know. She even made Julan break up with me when she realized I'd found out. She was afraid I'd convince Julan, but that idiot buys  _ anything _ she tells him."

“So, what  _ did  _ happened, then?”

They were close to the camp outskirts, and Shani glanced towards the yurts further up the hill nervously.

“I can’t talk about it here,” she said. “I know we’re a bit further away, but I shouldn't even be talking about him in the first place. If Ahmabi heard-“

“Who?”

“The Ashkhan’s widow. She was the one that banished Mashti in the first place, and she's banned all talk about them.”

So the Ashkhan’s widow was the one responsible for Mashti and Julan’s exile. That was interesting. There were still pieces of the puzzle that were missing, but if Shani was to be believed, she would have the answers.

“Look, I'm leaving with the hunt tomorrow morning,” said Shani. “I'm not sure when I'll be back, but when I am, I'll send word to the Varo Tradehouse, and we can meet up and talk if you want to. You probably  _ should _ know if you going to be travelling with him."

“That’s true. Thanks Shani.”

“Don’t mention it.” She glanced back to the camp. “I better go and start preparing for the hunt. We’ll be away a while. I’ll see you around sometime, Velyne.”

“Take care of yourself out there.”

“I always do.”

She jogged off up the hill towards the camp, and Velyne turned to return back to Mashti’s camp. It had been an interesting conversation for sure. She knew that Mashti’s business wasn’t really her’s at all, but she was intrigued as to why the older mer would lie about her exile, and about finding Julan. She had ideas, but nothing concrete.

At the very least, Shani seemed to be accepting of Velyne. She doubted that Shani knew about the nature of her relationship with Julan, but it seemed she had her own suspicions on the matter and was keeping them to herself. It was better than she could have hoped, if she was honest.

Mashti was outside when she returned, washing clothes by the sea.

“Where did you go?” she asked suspiciously.

“I went out for a walk. And I didn’t see anyone else watching the camp, if you were concerned.”

Mashti simply grunted, returning to scrubbing and not paying her any further mind. Velyne just sighed. That was probably the friendliest conversation they’d ever have.

[]

She was back in the manse again, running down a hallway, turning the corner and flattening herself against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. At the other end of the hall, the masked man prowled past, his breathing painfully loud.

“It’s not real, it’s not real,” she muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s all a dream, and he wants you to believe him.”

“Talking to yourself, Nerevar?” the masked man mused, sounding closer than ever.

Velyne turned to run down the next corridor, but instead the veiled Ayrea - the one that never existed - stood there.

“Least loved and betrayed, as you betrayed me Nerevar,” he continued. “But all will be forgiven, if you submit.”

“Please,” whispered Ayrea, her child’s voice ill-suited to her adult form. “Please Vel.”

Velyne stumbled backwards, desperate to escape her, but instead she stumbled right into the masked man. The expression carved into the mask had changed, once straight faced but now smiling. He began to speak, but she couldn’t understand a word he said, and it took a moment for her to realise that Ayrea was saying the same words. 

She reached to Velyne, taking her hand, and fear coursed through her at the contact. She tried to yank her hand away from the shade, but found that she was paralysed - by fear or magic, it was hard to say.

Still the man smiled, and still Ayrea held her hand, as they both continued speaking, their words flooding her until-!

[]

Velyne bolted upright, sweat streaming down her face as she trembled. Fear still flooded through her and she swore she could feel Ayrea’s hand still grasping her own. She could swear she felt the tingling sensation of residual magicka, but whether it was her own or not she couldn’t tell.

It was still the middle of the night, but Velyne knew that after that dream, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep again. So she kicked the blanket away and stood up, making a beeline for Julan’s yurt. Mashti’s opinions be damned, she needed his company right now.

“Julan?” she called gently, poking her head around the flap. He stirred, opening his eyes blearily before sitting up.

“Velyne?” he yawned. He seemed to realise that something was amiss, as he asked worriedly, “what’s wrong, what happened?”

“I… I had a nightmare. A bad one,” she confessed, stepping into the yurt. “I need you.”

He didn’t seem to need any more reason. He opened his arms, beckoning her over. Velyne wasted no time in climbing into the bedroll next to him, that sense of security washing over her as he put his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he murmured reassuringly. “I’m here now.” There was a pause, then he asked, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Dagoth-Ur was there,” she whispered. “He was chasing me… Ayrea was there too. I think… I think they were trying to put a spell on me, because they started chanting but I couldn’t understand the words.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t remember how it ended. Part of me doesn’t want to. I’m scared Julan, what if I’m going mad?”

“You aren’t, and you won’t, I promise,” he said firmly. “We’ll stop him. No matter what, I know we will.”


	14. Corprus

Balmora looked (and smelled) much the same as ever, which was enough to put Velyne’s mind somewhat at ease. The dream had set her on edge, reminding her that Dagoth Ur was still out there somewhere, and very much determined to take Vvardenfell for himself… Or whatever it was he was planning. So she and Julan put an end to their break and made the trip back to report in to Caius.

Whether he’d been expecting to wait quite so long for Velyne to report back, she didn’t know, but he didn’t say anything of it. Instead he just listened as she recited the test that Sul-Mataal had given her, and what he and Nibani had said about the Nerevarine.

Once she finished, he nodded decisively.

“Good work, Velyne,” he said approvingly. “I’m promoting you to the rank of Traveler. You've spoken with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and, from what they say, it sounds like you could really be the Nerevarine. That's just incredible.”

That was certainly one word for it, though Velyne wasn’t sure it was the word she would use. Unbelievable, or crazy, were what immediately came to mind. She still wasn’t certain she believed it. Julan certainly didn’t seem to.

“But I'll have to get used to the idea,” he continued, “and I’m sure you will too. Let me try to get word to Mehra Milo. Maybe she can find out whether the Dissident Priests have any lost prophecies. But in the meantime, I have a very tough assignment for you. Do you think you're ready?"

“As I ever am,” she replied bluntly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Don't get cocky, Drals,” he warned, giving her a very serious look. “But it so happens that I agree - you're ready. But just in case, I'm going to give you four hundred drakes. But remember this; if you get in trouble, back off, rest up, and go back fresh. Don't get cocky. I think this will be a tough one."

“What makes this so different from my usual assignments?” she asked, pocketing the gold.

“A month ago, Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a Sixth House base,” he explained grimly. "Only one trooper escaped to report. He reported fighting with monsters and cultists, and something about a powerful Sixth House priest called Dagoth Gares. I need you to report to Fort Buckmoth and speak to Champion Raesa Pullia. She'll give you all of the details. Your orders: find that Sixth House base, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report on the Sixth House base.”

Velyne’s insides suddenly felt very cold. A Sixth House base and a priest… That did sound far more dangerous than any of her previous assignments, by far. Definitely more dangerous than poking around haunted crypts and digging up information.

“What happened to the trooper?” she asked hesitantly. “The one who reported back.”

“Died of corprus,” Caius said gravely. “They say he was raving, like he was out of his mind. He probably was. Which is why I need you to be taking every precaution on this mission, Velyne. This is far more risky than just running errands.”

No kidding.

Julan was waiting a little further down the road, and he frowned when he spotted Velyne approaching.

“What’s wrong? You don’t look so good,” he remarked.

“I need to report to Fort Buckmoth to speak with Champion Raesa Pullia,” she explained. “Caius wants me to locate and take down a Sixth House base that one of their patrols stumbled across.”

"You WHAT? Are you sure?” When she nodded, his shock faded, and he looked as grim and sober as Caius did. “That sounds…interesting. And dangerous. Probably suicidally dangerous. Well, if it's something you've got to do, then I'll be right there with you. You're going to need all the help you can get!"

Velyne snorted, smiling. 

“Thanks. Now come on, time to go see your favourite people in the world.”

[]

The garrison had obviously been alerted to their coming ahead of time, as one of the troops directed them inside and led them to Raesa. She was a tall, muscular imperial woman with brown hair worn up in a tight knot and a face a bit like a fox. And right now, she was giving orders to a man in Legionnare armour.

“Double the patrol around Gnaar Mok, but they are not to search for the cave. Their orders are to watch for signs of unusual activity, and to report back, understood?”

“Yes Champion.” He turned to leave, nodding to Velyne and Julan as he passed. 

Raesa turned and raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm Raesa Pullia, Champion of the Legion garrison here at Buckmoth Legion Fort. And you're Drals, yes? Caius Cosades sent you, didn't he? He says you're the one to handle this Sixth House base near Gnaar Mok."

“That’s right. He also said you would have information for me,” she replied.

Raesa nodded, waving them over. Behind her was a labelled map of the island.

"One trooper reported in. He died not long after he reached the fort, horribly disfigured with corprus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast -- he called it ‘Ilunibi.’ It's not on our maps, so all we know is that it’s close to the fishing village, Gnaar Mok where the troops were patrolling,” she explained gravely. “If the report is accurate, they fought with cultists and disfigured man-beasts -- corprus monsters, I think. They fled the attackers and got lost in the caves. Then they ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares,

“He slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told him that he was being spared, so he might tell others that ‘The Sleeper Awakes,’ ‘The Sixth House has Risen,’ ‘Dagoth Ur is our Lord, and I am his Priest,’ and ‘All will be One with Him in the Flesh.’ The trooper awakened outside the caves and returned here. We couldn't recognize him, and he didn't respond to questions... just kept rambling on like a madman until he died."

“And you said he was inflicted with corprus disease?” asked Velyne. She’d heard talk of it since arriving on Vvardenfell. A disease that most considered a death mark. Those who caught the disease were often ousted from settlements once they were discovered in an attempt to prevent further outbreak.

Raesa nodded.

"I'd heard of corprus disease before, but never seen it until now. The trooper's flesh was swollen and covered with growths. His bones twisted and lost their shape. He spoke to himself, as if in a dream. We didn't recognize him at first, except for his clothing and armor. The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn't cure the disease. He died soon after he reached the fort. Didn't realize how fast corprus kills. It sure wasn't pretty. The troops seem shaken. I'm a little worried myself, to tell the truth."

“What happened to the body?”

“We incinerated it to prevent the disease from spreading. We don’t have the resources here to quarantine such a disease, let alone study it.”

Fair enough. It seemed there was only one thing to do then.

“How do we get to Gnaar Mok?”

[]

The fishing village took about a week to reach, and Velyne only felt more and more uneasy the closer they got. Once they arrived, they began to ask about Ilunibi cave, though no one seemed keen to talk about it much. Some said it was to invite bad luck to speak of the place at all, and only when Velyne interrogated a nervous looking bosmer did they finally get somewhere.

The cave was further out in the swamp, on a little island near the shore. So they set out, wading through the water and muck. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, Velyne had to admit. And the feeling only worsened when they approached the cave itself.

It was hardly noticeable. A small rock cropping with a wooden door set over the entrance, with ‘Ilunibi, Carcass of the Saint’ carved roughly into the surface. It didn’t look like it could be the entrance to a cave, but looks could be deceiving.

“Ready?” asked Julan.

Velyne simply nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. She was certain her voice would betray her hesitation if she did. This whole place was just…  _ wrong _ .

She pulled back the wooden boards, and beyond there was an almost vertical drop down into the depths of the cave. A wooden ladder lay at the entrance, no doubt to make getting back up easier. It did nothing to sooth her. She could only wonder what horrors Dagoth Gares had waiting for them below.

The caves were a confusing labyrinth where they would have surely ended up lost forever if not for Velyne’s talent for clairvoyance that helped lead the way. But they had more than the unending passages to deal with. The base was crawling with monsters - ash vampires, poor souls driven mad by corprus, dreamers, and sleepers, and only the Divines knew what else. Trying to find their way through without getting so much as a scratch was more than a challenge.

Velyne was beginning to understand why Caius had warned her not to be cocky.

Finally, they came to what had to be the very bottom of the caves. The chamber was bathed in a red light, which emanated from four totems set around the room, and from the shrine in the centre. It bore the likeness of Dagoth Ur, the masked man from Velyne’s dreams, and red smoke unfurled from his eyes, filling the room with the smell of rotting flesh.

“Is it me, or is everything just… _ not right _ all of a sudden?” muttered Julan, whose eyes were darting to every dark corner, just waiting for Dagoth Gares to appear.

He was right. The air had shifted, and the hairs on the back of Velyne’s neck were standing on end. There was definitely something very wrong here.

"The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar. Or Velyne Drals, as you call yourself,” a sinister voice announced, echoing off the walls of the chamber. “I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

Velyne tensed, holding her spear at the ready, eyes combing the chamber. She couldn’t  _ see _ him, yet she could sense him all around her. So where was he?

“What do you want?” she demanded, turning to check he wasn’t behind them. He wasn’t.

"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought,

“'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service,' 

“My Lord Dagoth bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

The air in the chamber whipped up around them, and some dark malignant cloud poured from the totems in the corners of the room. They began to converge before the shrine, spinning and taking shape as Dagoth Gares took form before them.

He was a hideous creature, shrouded in dark robes with a face unlike any man, mer or beast Velyne had met. The shroud wrapped around his shoulders seemed to be adorned with  _ eyes _ , and a trunk protruded from his head, with no visible face. He was an unearthly creature that flooded her with pure horror and left her without words. She simply gripped her spear a little harder, keeping the blade pointed at the priest.

“So be it.”

He threw a paralysation spell at Julan, freezing him in place before throwing a series of powerful destruction spells at Velyne. She barely dodged the fireball he threw at her, the heat washing over her as it skimmed past. She parried the spear of ice he threw, shattering it with the shaft of her spear before darting forwards, slashing at the shroud of eyes. They widened briefly before they burst and the foul smelled black fluid erupted from them.

Dagoth Gares screeched, staggering blindly. He had been seeing through them then, and now was partially blinded. Disgusting, but useful. Velyne leapt forwards again, hitting him around the head with the spear shaft, knocking him down on his front. The eyes on the back of his shroud widened, staring up at her in abject horror as she brought the blade down and stabbed him through where his heart ought to have been.

Dagoth Gares let out an unholy shrieking sound, falling still as the eyes seemed to become unfocused. She sighed. It was over, she’d done it.

Suddenly the eyes flickered back to life, focusing directly on Velyne with cruel and murderous intent. Dagoth Gares’ hand shot up and seized her wrist violently. She yelled, trying to rip herself out of his grip to no avail.

“Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh,” he hissed.

There was a burning, prickling sensation, burrowing into her skin. Dagoth Gares’ hand went limp and fell down, and the eyes of his shroud once again became unfocused.

Velyne staggered backwards, ripping off her glove and rolling up her sleeve. The skin there was blackened and the knobbly bulges of a rash were already beginning to form. 

“Oh gods…” she breathed, eyes welling with tears as her chest tightened. “Gods no,  _ no _ …”

“You did it Velyne!” Julan cheered, not noticing her horror as he gave Dagoth Gares’ body a good kick. “Bastard never stood a chance! Praise Azura!”

He reached for her, and Velyne screamed, “ _ don’t touch me _ !”

“Velyne, what-?”

He froze when he caught sight of her blackened wrist, and he leapt back.

“Sheogorath’s beard, the bastard cursed you with corprus!” he yelped, glaring at the corpse behind him. “Damn s’wit!”

“Julan, what do I do?” Velyne said fearfully, all too aware of the horrible itching of her skin.

He paused, anger draining away from him. “I-I don’t know… I mean my mother made me drink some foul smelling concoctions for a week to make me immune, but she said that only works if you’re not already infected,” he rambled, before shaking his head. “Caius had to know the risks about coming here! He must know someone who can help! He  _ has _ to!”

Even he didn’t seem all that convinced. He knew better than anyone that there was no cure for corprus, and that it was always fatal. But even so, Velyne couldn’t just give up. Surely Caius wouldn’t have risked sending her if the Emperor truly believed she was Nerevarine, not without some sort of back up plan at least.

So she rolled her sleeve back down and pulled on her glove.

“It’s worth a shot,” she said shakily. “Let’s go.”

[]

Julan had cast a mark in Balmora and quickly teleported them back to the city. By that time, she could  _ feel _ the disease spreading. She was certain the black marks and rash were covering her whole arm by now. It wasn’t like what Raesa had described, with that trooper’s body swelling and disfiguring. Perhaps this sort of corprus was intended to act slowly, to make her suffer, to force her to submit to Dagoth Ur out of fear for her life. Or maybe the horrible disfigurement would come later. It was a week’s journey between the cave and the fort after all.

Divines, she hated not knowing about the thing that was ravaging her body.

Caius protested as Julan all but barged into the house with Velyne, but neither mer paid him much mind immediately. 

“We need your help,” Julan said tersely, turning to the old imperial.

Caius scowled. “Get out of my house, boy. This is none of your concern.”

“It’s fine, Caius,” Velyne groaned. “He already knows anyway. Besides, he’s right. I need your help. Now.”

He turned to her, frowning.

“Velyne, what-” He stopped dead as she pulled off her glove. Her hand was completely blackened and her fingers had begun to swell. “You have corprus.”

She nodded, pulling the glove back on with a little difficulty.

“Dagoth Gares  _ cursed _ me, just as he died,” she said, trying to control her tone to keep herself from sounding too accusing. “You sent me there, you had to have known there was a risk of this happening!”

Caius nodded, looking very grave. "I knew there was a serious risk, so I canvassed my informants for possible treatments, just in case you contracted the disease during your mission. I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr.”

“Fyr? Sounds Telvanni,” Julan noted worriedly.

Velyne understood his hesitation. The Telvanni weren’t exactly known for their love of Outlanders, but if anyone had a cure, it was worth pursuing.

"Here,” said Caius, depositing a large cloth sack into Velyne’s hands. “Take this Dwemer artifact and a thousand drakes, and go to Tel Fyr. Divayth Fyr will like the Dwemer artifact. A thoughtful gift may sweeten his disposition, and should convince him to cure you. If there  _ is _ a cure…”

He trailed off, and it seemed he was as uncertain about all of this as Velyne was. But what other options were there? Submit to Dagoth Ur, or die. Neither were acceptable as far as Velyne was concerned.

“Also, you’ll need these.” He held out a pair of silver bands that hummed with magicka. “They’re enchanted with levitation magic. Telvanni aren’t exactly known for using stairs.”

Velyne took one and slipped it onto a finger on her good hand. She put the dwemer artifact into her pack and headed for the door.

“And by the way, I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for," Caius added. “When you’ve got that cure, hurry back here. Gods go with you both.” 

[]

It was by sheer luck that there had been anyone willing to take Velyne anywhere. Had her affliction been obvious, they’d have been turned away without a second thought. But even though it was impossible to see that she was sick, Velyne could  _ feel _ the disease ravaging her system. 

The blistering rash now made the fingers of her left hand so stiff that it was near unusable, and her entire arm was blackened, and it was beginning to spread to her chest. Breathing was becoming painful, and wielding a weapon was becoming impossible. No amount of healing magic made things any easier, and at times she found her concentration slipping. The disease was surely affecting her mind now, she was sure.

Finally they reached Tel Fyr, the tall mushroom tower dominating the landscape. It seemed impossibly tall, looming overhead and Velyne couldn’t help but be impressed.

“I always hated these towers,” Julan muttered. “It’s like the Telvanni are too good for stairs or something.”

Velyne paid him no mind. Her best hope for a cure was in that tower, and if they had it, the Telvanni could abolish stairs for all she cared. She was sure her arm was beginning to swell now.

So they headed inside where they were greeted by a red haired dunmer woman, who marched over and looked over them swiftly.

"I suppose you want to speak to Divayth Fyr? Have you got corprus disease? Or were you planning to plunder the dungeon?" she asked in rapid succession.

“The first two,” Velyne replied. “We were told Divayth might have a cure.”

She raised a brow but said no more.

“Divayth is at the top of the tower in his study. You may speak with him, but I hope you have levitation spells or potions,” she said smartly.

“We can manage,” Julan snorted. “Come on Velyne.”

They headed up as the mer had suggested, and reached the top of the tower. They came to an expansive study, where an old mer in full daedric armour was bent over a work station. He looked up as they approached. He certainly did look old. Perhaps the oldest mer that Velyne had ever laid eyes on. He had a long white beard that ended in a pointed curl, and bushy white eyebrows. Yet he wore all that armour without being hindered at all. He looked more like a warlord than a wizard.

His eyes widened at the sight of the pair, and he beamed.

"Well! What a pleasure! A visitor! An entertaining diversion!” he said cheerily. “How may I be of service?”

Velyne reached into her pack and pulled out the dwemer artifact that Caius had given to her. She held it out to Divayth, who took it curiously.

“A gift for you,” she said. “I heard you have an interest in the dwemer.”

"A gift? For me? How thoughtful. And shrewd. I suppose you know I am a collector. And that such a gift is bound to please me. I congratulate you on your diplomatic skills,” he chortled, setting the artifact to one side before looking at the pair curiously. “So, why have you tried to butter me up? Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

Velyne simply pulled off her glove, revealing her swollen, blackened hand. Divayth blinked, then looked at her soberly. 

"How interesting. Did you know that corprus makes you immune to disease? Have you ever heard of the prophecies of the Nerevarine?” 

“I’m familiar with them,” she replied.

“Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune to disease. I've always thought, ‘maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium, and I don't even know it.’ Hah. Hah. The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat. Wouldn't that be funny?"

She gave him a deadpan stare. She really didn’t think it was funny in the slightest. But this piece of information was new to her. If she really was Nerevarine, then why was the corprus affecting her? She glanced over to Julan, who seemed to know what she wanted to ask, and he nodded.

“I was tested by the leaders of the Nerevarine cult,” she explained, turning back to Divayth. “And they said I have the appearance of the one who may be Nerevarine.”

Divayth blinked.

“Truly? That's a fascinating story you tell. So. You might be the Nerevarine. Means nothing, of course. Corprus victims have all sorts of delusions. But... let me think..." 

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, turning away and muttering to himself as he rooted around his workbench for several minutes.

"I've got a potion,” he said finally. “In theory, it should cure corprus. Doesn't work, though. Probably kill you. Killed all my test subjects. But you've got nothing to lose.” 

True enough. At this point Velyne was willing to try anything.

“So can I have it? Please?” she added, not wanting him to lose interest in helping her over bad manners.

“Yes.” But before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he went on to say, “before I give it to you, I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium. Know what's in store if you don't take the potion. And while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, calls himself Yagrum Bagarn. My oldest patient. Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring the boots back, and then you can have the potion."

She groaned. There was always a catch. But if it meant not dying of corprus, then she had no choice. 

“Where do I find him down there?” 

[]

Julan had to remain behind whilst Velyne descended into the Corprusarium. Whilst he was supposedly immune to the disease, he cited that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to refrain from attacking the patients held inside. 

So Velyne descended into the bowels of the earth below the tower alone, arriving at the entrance which was guarded by an argonian. He held out an arm to stop Velyne before she entered.

“I am here to warn you: do not harm the inmates," he said coldly. "If you come to plunder the dungeon, you must endure their attacks, and take your chances with me, their Warden and Protector."

She nodded, and he opened the door, allowing her inside.

Following Divayth’s instructions, Velyne made her way to the area of the Corprusarium where Yagrum made his home, though it wasn’t all that straightforward. She continually ducked out of sight as one of the horribly bloated corprus monsters blundered past blindly. Just looking at them made her shiver with fear. If this cure didn’t work, that would be  _ her _ .

It was a horrifying revelation that these had been people once. People with lives, and dreams, and families… Now reduced to this bleak existence, trapped below ground, stripped of their minds.

In time, Velyne came across a mer seated on the ground and tapping rhythmically on a guarskin drum as several patients slept around her. One of Divayth’s daughters, no doubt. And beside her was…

“Yagrum Bagarn?” she said, approaching.

He was a mer but unlike any she had seen before, and that wasn’t just accounting for the corprus. He was horribly bloated and covered in sores, thanks to the disease, and he had a thick grey beard. He had a broad face, with sharp features and a hooked nose, and he had long pointed ears. He was also seated in some dwemer contraption that substituted his legs.

"You're here for the Dwemer boots?” he guessed, reaching down and pulling them out. “Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could. Only a Dwemer magecrafter could have done so much.” 

He held them out and Velyne took them gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said, but he simply tsked and shook his head.

“Don’t thank me. Only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers," he lamented shamefully.

Velyne hesitated, then asked, “are you really a dwemer?”

Yagrum raised a thick eyebrow at her. 

"Yes, my dear. I am the Last Dwarf, Yagrum Bagarn. This is how I style myself, though I do not know for a fact that I am the last,” he said soberly. “But in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumor of another Dwemer, on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm."

He seemed surprisingly sane, despite the insanity-inducing qualities of corprus. A bit irritable perhaps, but definitely not out of his mind like the other patients.

“How did you end up here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“You are a curious one, aren’t you?” Yagrum noted. "If you must know, owe my life to Lord Fyr, as he was the one who found me. He took me in when I was a mad monster, out of my mind.” In time, I emerged from my dementia, and now I am quite lucid most of the time, though my body is still a grotesque and useless prison. And I still have some feeble hope of cure. Lord Fyr has tried many spells and potions. None have helped me, but neither have they harmed me. If anyone can cure this disease, Lord Fyr can."

“You’re not the only one hoping that,” Velyne said bluntly, raising her bloated hand. Yagrum nodded gravely.

“Yes, many of us here wait for the day that Lord Fyr’s cure might succeed,” he said heavily. “Though he has seen little success as of yet.”

She was hoping that would change sooner rather than later. She slipped the boots into her pack. It was time to leave. She could feel the corprus continuing to spread, and even though she had so many questions, now wasn’t the time.

“I’d better get these back to him,” she said. “But… would it be alright if I came back to talk to you some more? I’d be fascinated to hear more about the dwemer.”

Yagrum blinked, looking rather surprised. He snorted, but nodded regardless.

“Very well. Conversation is not quite so easy to come by nowadays,” he said. “Oh, and tell Lord Fyr that the fundamental enchantment on the boots is flawed. Might as well start over again... if such a pair of boots could still be fashioned in these benighted latter days.” He shook his head, sighing heavily. “But I have done my best. Take them to Lord Fyr with my sincere apologies."

[]

Julan seemed relieved to see Velyne emerged in one piece, though he winced when he glanced at her face. The black markings had spread even further since she had departed to find Yagrum.

“This cure better work, or me and the Telvanni are having  _ words _ ,” he snarled as they headed back up to the study where Divayth was waiting anxiously. He beamed at the sight of Velyne, though she doubted it was out of relief for her safety.

"The boots first, please. And now, I'll give you the potion, on the following condition; you must drink it here, before my eyes. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully. Agreed?"

She nodded. She handed over the boots and took the potion bottle he offered. It was pitch black and didn’t smell terribly pleasant. Still, if it was a cure, she had to try. She gulped down the bottle’s contents in one go.

A sudden and terrible pain tore through her left side and Velyne fell to her knees screaming in pain.

“Velyne!” Julan ran to her side, wrapping his arms around her. “Are you alright?”

No, she couldn’t be. The pain was unbearable, unbelievable. It felt like the potion was boiling in her blood, ripping her apart. Tears streamed down her face, but then… The pain began to subside. Slowly, it made way for a soothing sensation, and her body began to relax. Suddenly her fingers, which had been swollen and stiff, curled and uncurled without trouble. Her chest no longer ached, breathing was no longer a chore, and her head suddenly felt clear.

“Julan, I… I think it  _ worked _ ,” she breathed, sitting up.

“It  _ what _ ?” he breathed disbelievingly. He pushed her bangs back to inspect her face, and his eyes widened. “The marks are gone…”

Velyne pulled off her glove. Her hand was slender and its usual shade of grey, and all traces of the knobbly rash had vanished without a trace.

It had  _ worked _ .

“Goodness... Good grief!” Divayth exclaimed. “Look! Look! It...  _ worked _ !”

“By Mephala!” Julan exclaimed. “You look like your old self again, Velyne!”

He hugged her tightly against his chest, burying his face into her hair, and Velyne couldn’t help but laugh even as she was still crying. It had worked. Against all odds, she was cured.

Divayth bustled over, prying Velyne away to inspect her.

"Remarkable,” he breathed. “Let me check your skin...” 

He rolled back her sleeve, inspecting the skin which had been completely blackened before. 

“Your eyes.” 

He pushed back her eyelid, peering at her pupils. 

“Your tongue.” 

She stuck her tongue out, and after a moment he beamed brightly.

“Amazing! I think it worked…no sign of the disease at all. Of course, you still have Corprus disease, just like I planned.”

Suddenly the overwhelming joy dissipated and Velyne stared at him as though he were mad.

“You  _ planned _ ?!” she exclaimed. He was lucky her legs were still shaking too badly for her to stand right away, else she’d have choked him.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “All your symptoms are gone, but yes, you still have Corprus. That makes you immune to diseases and...who knows? Maybe you’re immortal!”

He chortled excitedly, reaching for a quill as he started to scribble down notes.

“It’s absolutely  _ marvelous _ ,” he declared. “I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate patients…”

Without another word, he snatched up another bottle of cure and bustled off, leaving Velyne and Julan alone on the floor of his study. She stared after him, torn between the overwhelming relief and unbelievable anger coursing through her. 

Divayth had never planned to cure her corprus, only to remove the symptoms. What did that even mean? And what did he mean by ‘immortal’? She got the feeling he hadn’t been exaggerating, but after such an emotional few days, she decided to believe it was simply the exaggeration of a mad wizard.

“Let’s get out of here before he gets back,” Julan mutters. “Else he might try to study you once the excitement wears off.”

Velyne simply nodded and they set off. Night had fallen by the time they exited the tower, and so they set up camp further along the coast, using a rock formation as shelter. As they sat by the fire, Velyne couldn’t help but notice he seemed distracted.

“Something on your mind?”

He looked over at her, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, don’t laugh, but... I was thinking about Shani. And no, not like that!” he added hastily, when she cocked an eyebrow. “It’s just that, I was mad at you, and then you got Corprus and I thought you were going to die… It just makes me think, what if I had stayed mad at you, then something terrible had happened? What if I had never got the chance to sort things out? I would have never forgiven myself for being such an idiot. And then, I think about Shani..."

“And you think you’re being an idiot?”

He nodded stiffly.

“Then we’ll go to your mother’s place tomorrow and see her,” she said. “It’s almost tempting to take another break after all of this, to be honest.”

Julan laughed, smiling weakly.

“Yeah…” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I was… really worried about you,” he confessed. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

He edged closer to her, eyes burning brightly with the utmost sincerity.

“I know what you said that you needed some time, and if you still do, then I’ll respect that,” he said firmly, placing his hand over her’s. “But… I-I want to…”

Velyne simply smiled as he trailed off and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. She felt him smiling and purred as he cupped the back of her head in his hand, tilting it back and deepening the kiss.

She’d missed this, she decided as she wrapped her arms around his neck.


	15. Lost and Found

As Velyne and Julan departed from Mashti’s camp the following morning she glanced up at the overcast sky. It was a foreboding shade of dark grey, no doubt promising a downpour of rain sooner or later. Velyne would prefer later, when they were less likely to get caught in it on the way to the Ahemmusa camp. They seemed lucky enough for a while, but when the camp came into view, there was an ominous rumble of thunder.

“What are the chances the Ahemmusa toss us out on our arses when the storm rolls in?” Velyne sighed.

Julan didn’t answer, remaining completely silent even as they entered the camp. As they did, Velyne became very aware that every eye had turned their way. None of them seemed friendly, and there was no sign of Shani.

“You’ll find no welcome here as long as you’re with that outcast scum, Outlander,” hissed a young woman seated by the nearby fire, taking pause from her sewing to shoot the pair a nasty look. “He should _know_ better than to show up here after what his foul mother did.”

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Velyne said reassuringly. “We just need to find Shani. She said she wanted to talk to me when she got back from hunting with the others.”

The woman’s expression turned to surprise for a moment, then softened to worry, though still tempered with suspicion.

"Shani's hunting troupe returned some time ago, but she was not with them,” she said. “They say they lost her somewhere in the Grazelands. Normally I would not speak to you of this, but…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I confess that I am worried, and we cannot spare the warriors to search for her.”

“What can I do to help find her?”

“Gunta was the one leading the troupe. He is outside of Lanabi’s yurt and may be able to tell you more.”

Julan knew where to find Lanabi’s yurt, and sure enough, Gunta was just outside. He looked around as the pair walked over and his eyes narrowed dangerously when he spied Julan at Velyne’s shoulder.

“What is _he_ doing here?” he demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

“We’re looking for Shani,” Velyne explained. “We heard she went missing on your hunt.”

“Neither of you are Ahemmusa,” he snarled. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because we’re friends. Shani is missing and you don’t have the people to spare to search for her. If we go to look for her, you don’t risk losing anyone else.”

Gunta paused, still scowling as he considered her words. Finally, he sighed and nodded, and his glare dropped.

“You speak true Outlander. Shani is missing and we don’t have anyone we can spare to search for her,” he said gravely. “She was a member of my hunting party. But we were attacked suddenly by many kagouti in the Grazelands, and the group became scattered. When we regrouped, she was missing. We searched for her, but time drew on, and we found no sign of her. We returned to camp, thinking perhaps she had returned."

“But she hadn’t,” Julan muttered darkly.

“That was almost a week ago now, and I fear the worst," Gunta continued. "Shani is very young, and not a strong fighter. We cannot afford to send warriors after her, as we have few left, and they must hunt and defend the camp. But she was under my command, and I feel responsible.”

“We’ll find her,” Velyne said firmly. “Where was it that the kagouti attacked your hunting party?”

“We were ambushed not far from the Nerano Ancestral Tomb. We did not find Shani there, but if there is a trail that leads to her, I would suggest you start your search there.”

As they left the camp, Julan muttered: “lost in the grazelands. And she calls herself a scout!”

“We’ll find her Julan,” Velyne repeated firmly, slipping her hand into his and squeezing tightly. “You’ll see.”

“...Is it bad that I almost don’t want to find her?” he asked after a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground. “What if-?”

“Don’t,” Velyne interrupted firmly. She stopped in front of him, forcing him to stop as well before gently taking his face in her hands and fixing her eyes on his. “We’ll find her Julan. She’s too stubborn to just lie down and die. You have that in common.”

He seemed startled for a moment then his expression softened to a gentle smile.

“You’re amazing, do you know that?” he chuckled as they fell in step together.

Velyne shrugged and simply said, “I’m getting there.”

[]

There were more ominous rumbles of thunder overhead as they reached the Nerano Ancestral Tomb. It wouldn’t be long before the storm rolled in, and Velyne wanted nothing more than to find Shani before that happened. If she was injured she would need a healer, and neither Velyne or Julan were exactly well versed in more complex forms of restoration magic. Cuts they could fix. Broken bones and dislocated limbs would call for a more experienced hand.

Velyne glanced around despite knowing that if that Shani had left any tracks, she was less likely to spot them than Julan. And a lot could happen in a week. There were lots of tracks left in the mud but none that resembled a dunmer’s.

“Velyne, look,” Julan called, pointing over the nearby rise.

Cliffracers were circling overhead, and by the sounds of it, many more were screeching on the ground, just out of sight.

The two mer exchanged a quick glance before creeping closer, lying down in the grass to get a better look.

The cliffracers were in a frenzy, tearing at the rotted carcasses of several dead kagouti. And in the side of one of them, Velyne spied a broken-off spear.

“The cliffracers didn’t kill those kagouti,” she hissed.

Julan nodded. “They’re opportunists. They would never pass up a free meal that’s just lying around,” he murmured. He squinted them pointed just beyond the flock. “Looks like they left a trail of leftovers.”

Velyne followed his gaze and sure enough, she could make out what remained of several more dead kagouti that the cliffracers had already picked over.

“It’s more than we had a minute ago,” she whispered. “Better not to draw too much attention. I’m not sure we could take that many at once.”

Julan didn’t argue or disagree, just followed her lead as they crept their way around the edge of the flock. Fortunately for them, right now the cliffracers were so preoccupied with grabbing whatever kagouti scraps they could that they didn’t notice either of the dunmer creeping past.

The trail led to the edge of a steep trench, and lying at the bottom was another carcass. Carefully, Velyne and Julan edged their way down the slope, still trying to make as little noise as possible. There was no need to rouse the flock, especially now in the narrow confines of the trench which would only make them easy prey.

Fetcherflies crawled over what remained of the kagouti carcass - it seemed the flock had already picked this one clean before moving onto the others. A pair of smaller, scrawnier looking cliffracers were picking at something on the ground further up the trench. As Velyne got a better look at it, she realised it was a shield made of netch leather.

"That's Shani's! She used to have a shield just like that!" cried Julan. The cliffracers’ heads snapped up and they cawed loudly at the pair. Before either Velyne or Julan had a chance to stop them, they spread their wings and took to the sky, still cawing loudly.

“That can’t be good,” Velyne groaned. The sky rumbled ominously and the first drops of rain began to fall. They were followed by a great beating of wings and the sky grew ever darker as a great cloud of cliffracers filled the sky overhead. There had to be hundreds of them, far more than just the one flock they’d seen. Paralysed with fear, Velyne couldn’t help but stare, open mouthed and rooted to the spot.

“Run!” shouted Julan. He grabbed Velyne’s hand when she didn’t follow immediately, dragging her further along the trench. The feeling surged back into her legs and she nearly stumbled as it did. Steadying herself, she gripped Julan’s hand tightly and ran as fast as she could.

One of the cliffracers dived, long beak snapping at the pair and its sharp claws barely grazing over the tops of their heads.

The rain fell harder and faster than ever, and wet ground quickly became muddy. Running was getting harder. Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the fringes of the flock as it beared down on them.

They’d never out run the flock, they had to find shelter.

And like the Divines themselves had heard her prayers, Velyne spied a cave just ahead.

“In there!” she yelled over the lightning.

Julan didn’t hesitate to race for the cave entrance, but to her dismay it was sealed and boarded over. A pickaxe and sodden letter had been left beside it, no doubt by whoever had left it there. Julan threw a fireball at it, but whilst wood yielded to flame, stone was no easily persuaded.

“The pickaxe!” Velyne shouted. “I’ll deal with them!”

“And how in the name of Sheogorath’s saggy nipples do you plan to do that?” Julan cried hoarsely.

“Just do it!” she barked, dropping his hand. He did as he was told, regardless of his doubts. He grabbed the pickaxe and began to hack at the rockfall, prying the stones loose.

Velyne turned to the flock as it swelled overhead, the beating of wings louder than the rumble of thunder. She’d only get one chance at this, and it all came down to timing. One moment too late, and it wouldn’t be the cliffracers that would be the problem.

Mustering every drop of magicka she had, Velyne conjured lightning into her palms. She watched the sky carefully, gazing past the flock as it prepared to swoop down upon them and at the swirling stormclouds overhead.

“Uh, Velyne… Whatever you’re going to do, you might want to do it now!” Julan cried, still trying to get the rocks loose. She ignored him, instead focusing on the magic in her hands and the stormy sky above.

There was a shrieking caw and the flock descended with flashing beaks and claws.

“VELYNE!”

In the space of a heartbeat, she opened her palms to the sky and the lightning leapt from them just as another bolt flashed overhead.

Like magnets, the two bolts seemed drawn to one another. They crashed through the flock, colliding somewhere in the middle. Velyne felt her knees buckle under the force of the collision, but she kept her hands raised. The cliffracers were screaming overhead, and she could smell burning flesh.

Her hands trembled, trying to keep the power suspended in the air. But it was harder than she could have ever imagined, as the sky itself seemed determined to strike her down in place of the cliffracers. Rivulets of blood were dripping from her eyes, and the copper tang filled her mouth.

“VELYNE!”

She heard a crash of rocks, even as Julan cried out. Now to end it. She gritted her teeth and forcibly straightened herself up. Her hands were burning with raw power and with a determined scream, she threw them up, splaying her fingers as she forced the lightning back into the heavens.

There was an unearthly clap of thunder as the whole sky lit up, with tendrils of electricity dispersed out over the clouds.

And then it was done.

Velyne’s knees hit the ground and she threw out her hands to stop herself from falling face first into the mud. This proved to be a mistake, as her hands were still burning and painfully sore. She yelped, drawing them close to her chest.

The rain mingled with the blood on her face as she huddled on the ground, her body still prickling with residual magicka that hadn’t been quite drained away by the effort of wrestling with a raw force of nature. Her ears were ringing and everything hurt and her eyes were burning. None of it competed with her hands though, raw and bloodied as they were.

“...lyne… Vel… Velyne!”

Still disoriented, she stared blankly up at Julan. His face was mired with worry and he gently placed an arm around her. The careful pressure still made her tremble, her muscles twitching almost feverishly with the excess of magical and electrical energy.

“C’mon, just in here,” he grunted, edging his way through the mouth of the cave. He eased her into a sitting position before pushing his sopping wet hair from his eyes. He pressed a hand to a wall, which glowed briefly. “That… Was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. And the most incredibly stupid thing too.”

He took her hands and channelled healing magic through them. The bleeding slowed and stopped, and the burning sensation began to subside. The newly healed skin was a tender blue-grey and her palms still stung.

“Mother might have some potions that will help you heal a bit better,” he said as he bandaged her hands carefully. “But this should do for now.”

“Head hurts,” she mumbled. Her mouth was still filled with blood.

He took the sides of her head and eased some more healing magic in through her temples, then behind her ears, and at the nape of her neck. The ringing in her ears faded, leaving only the sound of the storm outside, and her head began to clear.

“If Shani was smart, she’d have taken shelter in here if she was hurt,” Julan said. He straightened up, adjusting his pack. “You wait here and rest. I’ll see if I can find her.”

For once, Velyne didn’t argue. Her magicka was drained and her body still felt weak. She’d be the liability this time, and she knew it. So she tugged her cloak around herself and let her eyes slide shut to get some rest as Julan headed deeper into the caves.

[]

For the first time since his encounter with those clannfear at the Ghostgate, Julan was alone. He’d become so accustomed to Velyne being at his side that he sometimes forgot that he’d left her back at the cave entrance and made a smart-arsed quip that was met with silence. After the third time this happened, he wondered if this was how it felt to be lonely. He’d not considered it before. Even after breaking up with Shani, he’d not felt quite like this.

Maybe because Velyne was still injured, and now alone and defenseless. He had no doubt she could look after herself, but she was drained all of her magicka reserves and so weak that she had struggled to stand. It seemed even she could have her moments of vulnerability. He couldn’t blame her. That bit of magic was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even Mashti would struggle to compete with such a powerful bit of storm magic.

He wondered briefly is that was a mark of the Nerevarine, but then shook his head. She wasn’t supposed to be the Nerevarine, she was still an Outlander. And it felt unfair to attribute her strength to a man who had died so long ago. No doubt she’d worked to earn the ability to wield power like that.

As Julan went deeper into the caves, it quickly became evident that it was an abandoned mine. No natural cave system had support beams or mining equipment that had clearly been gathering dust for some time now.

Of course, nothing in Vvardenfell could ever truly be abandoned. When the settled folk left their mines, newcomers took their place. In this case, it was nix-hounds, rats, and feral kwama and none of them were friendly.

They were a pain to take out, but nothing too challenging. At least not until he came face to face with an ogrim, of all things.

The daedra was as wide as it was tall, with a thick layer of blubber that protected it from most ranged attacks. Arrows wouldn’t be of much help, and neither would most magic. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Julan drew his sword, holding it at the ready. He summoned a handful of flames. If he could get it in the face, it would be blinded long enough for him to kill it before it could get any punches in.

Unfortunately ogrims were faster than they looked, and the flames skimmed narrowly over the top of its horned head just as it bent down to pick at its filthy toenails. It roared, piggy little eyes scanning around the darkened cavern. It caught sight of Julan before he could duck out of sight and it charged, the ground shaking with each massive footfall.

He dove out of its path and ran up behind it, clutching at the beast’s shoulder. He tried to bring his sword over to slit its throat, but the ogrim started swinging left and right, trying to throw him off and his sword slid from his fingers, clattering to the floor nearby.

Left clinging for dear life, Julan did his best to avoid the ogrim grabbing him from off of its back. No doubt it’d snap him in half if it did.

The ogrim swung again, and this time it turned and Julan got a clear view of where his sword had fallen. He leapt, tumbling across the uneven ground. He scrambled for the sword as the ogrim caught sight of him and lumbered threateningly towards him.

Julan grabbed his blade, but as he did so, the ogrim stuttered to a stop. Julan blinked and spied the tip of a blade poking out of the ogrim’s neck. He stared as the blade flicked, slicing off the ogrim’s head and sent the beast toppling to the floor. For a brief moment he thought it would be Velyne standing there, having undergone some miraculous recovery and having arrived in time to save him.

Instead standing there was a figure clad in robes, their face hidden under a leather helm with a glass lense over their left eye. A red sash was tied around their waist, and they wore a red scarf around their neck too. Julan swallowed. He had a bad feeling about this person, even if they had saved him.

The figure glanced over Julan and snorted, shaking their head.

“It’s a wonder the nix hounds didn’t manage to gorge themselves on you, boy,” he chided in an accent that was unmistakably that of a settled dunmer. “Only a fool tries to slit someone’s throat with a sword like that.”

“And you would know better?” Julan retorted - a foolish move perhaps. His rescuer - if he was in fact that - was circling him like a nix hound waiting for an opening.

“I would.”

The mer came to a halt just in front of Julan. He still held his bloodied dagger in his hand, and it was hard to tell if he still planned to use it.

“Well. Get off your arse, s’wit. Your friend said you’re meant to be looking for someone,” he barked, grabbing Julan by the elbow and hauling him to his feet. “You were an idiot to leave her there. The state she’s in, being out in the open is the worst place for her to be.”

Julan balked, wrenching himself from the mer’s grip, scowling at him.

“And why would you care?”

“Never you mind, s’wit,” the mer growled. “But I’d say it’s in all of your interests to find whoever it is you’re looking for and leave before anything else decides to turn up. Daedra don’t stay dead forever.”

Without another word, the mer marched pass Julan. Julan stared wordlessly after him, not sure if he should follow or not. It seemed like madness, and his timing was all too convenient. And those robes… He wasn’t sure why, but they made his skin itch, like he knew they were only a bad thing.

But standing here wasn’t going to help him find Shani. And he wasn’t sure he wanted this other mer to find her first either. So steeling himself for whatever came next, he followed.

The other mer was silent as they ventured deeper into the caves, and Julan didn’t speak a word either. He was still debating whether he should thank the mer for saving him, or if he should stab him in the back and run. Somehow he guessed that the latter would only get _him_ killed, rather than the mer.

Julan flinched as he suddenly collided with the other mer’s back, back pedalling to a safe distance. He’d not realised that he’d stopped at the edge of a pool of water, and he was certain that he was being treated to a cold glare behind that mask.

The mer looked away from Julan and raised a hand. His palm glowed green but nothing seemed to happen. He lowered it slowly.

“Your friend is on the other side of this wall,” he said coolly, looking back at Julan. “I’m sure you can take it from here. I should make sure that the girl is still safe.”

He swept past Julan, who leapt back as he passed. And just like that, he was gone.

Julan didn’t know what to make of the mer. He’d arrived so suddenly and left just the same. Whatever his intentions were, he couldn’t begin to guess. But still, Shani was (supposedly) nearby. Just on the other side of the wall in fact, and Julan was willing to bet that he’d have to swim to get there.

He cast a spell of water breathing and jumped into the pool of water. It was just as well, as it was much deeper than it looked. When he emerged on the other side, he found himself in a smaller cavern, and lying on the ground beside the water was Shani.

“Shani!” Julan cried, scrambling out of the water and hurrying to her side. She looked terrible. Her wounded leg had been clumsily bandaged and she was pale and clammy. She barely seemed to realise that she’d been found, let alone who had found her. A small blessing for now, Julan decided as he fumbled in his pack for a potion of fatigue.

He carefully poured the potion down her throat, making sure she swallowed it all. She groaned, her brow pinching as the colour slowly returned to her face and her eyes slid open.

"Julan? You... you came for me," she croaked, a strange look dawning on her face. Once it might have made his heart leap, but now it just made him vaguely uncomfortable.

“Of course I did, you s’wit,” he said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small loaf of bread. “Eat some of this. Sheogorath knows how you’ve survived this long.”

She took the bread as she sat up and slowly started chewing. He’d honestly expected a worse reaction, but guessed that her placid demeanor would soon make way for anger once she’d eaten.

Once she was halfway through the bread, she lowered it from her mouth and swallowed.

"I... I can feel my strength returning. I lost track of time in here. I've eaten nothing but mushrooms for days, I think," she mumbled, blinking a few times as though to make sure her eyes were still working.

“What were you even thinking, coming down here?” Julan said forcefully. She seemed to remember she was supposed to be angry with him then, as her eyes snapped onto him with a glare sharper than any dagger.

"Oh, you know…" she said airily, "I just like the scenery."

Julan snorted. "Really? You came down here and managed to evade a mine full of nix-hounds and an ogrim just for the scenery? How did that work out?"

"Oh, wow, Julan, I always knew you were an idiot but I didn't know you were that much of an idiot. I got _trapped_ in here! What do you think?"

He felt his face flush in embarrassment.

“Well, what happened then?” he snapped. “How’d you end up here anyway? What about your leg?”

"We were out hunting, not long ago,” she began, not looking at him but still scowling. “But on the last day, there was a pack of kagouti. And I got separated from the troupe. I ran up onto the hills to get a better shot with my bow, but then one cornered me. I kept backing up trying to shoot it... but then I stumbled over the edge into the Foyada."

She shuddered, a hand clutching her leg and Julan felt a pang of sympathy. That kind of fall wasn’t something that you could just walk away from. The fact she’d made it this far on her own…

"My leg was injured in the fall. I couldn't climb my way back over the mountains. Then the Blight came down and there were so many creatures. I needed to find shelter and _fast_ ," she said, her voice growing steadily more shrill. "That's why I'm here. You try sneaking past an Ogrim, Julan! And a hoard of cave creatures, when you're hurt and exhausted, like I was. And even if I did get past them, the entrance was blocked. What was I supposed to do, dig? You s'wit!"

“Don’t call me a-!”

He was cut off by a loud rumbling noise. The cavern began to shake ominously, and then there was a loud crash on the other side. The wall had collapsed, trapping them both inside.

There was a long few moments of silence before it was pierced by Shani, who started to bawl.

"WE'LL BE STUCK HERE FOREVER!” she shrieked hysterically. “I’LL BE STUCK HERE WITH THAT SELFISH N'WAH-"

"I can tele- hey!" Julan yelled over her. "Wait just a second, you little s'w-"

"- WHO'LL JUST INSULT ME UNTIL I SMASH MY HEAD IN A ROCK TO ESCAPE!"

Shani buried her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face. The stress of being trapped and starving had gotten to her, and now she’d snapped.

"I don't know why you're here, if you're only going to yell at me!" she shouted, snapping her tear-strewn gaze back to Julan, her voice hoarse. "Why are you here, Julan? I bet you didn't even want to come and find me. This was probably all Velyne’s idea! She told you to look for me, didn’t she?! You don't care if I live or die anymore, do you? And now I bet you're wishing I was dead, just to shut me up!"

“YOU THINK I WANT YOU DEAD, YOU LITTLE S’WIT?!” he roared, a streak of white hot anger coursing through him as he glared back at her.

"Why else would you be here, if Velyne hadn’t told you to come!" she shouted. "You haven't even asked me how I'm feeling; all you’ve done is yell at me and tell me off!"

“I was _worried_ about you, you s’wit, just like Velyne was!” he barked. “She didn’t have to force me or convince me, I _wanted_ to come find you!”

"But what about your darling mother! You told her that you wouldn't have anything to do with me, and you have to what she wants, don't you?" she said shrilly. "You always do everything she tells you, because it makes your life so much easier that way! You never have to think at all!"

"That's not true!" Julan snapped. "I didn't break it off because she told me to; I broke it off because it was the right thing to do. I was protecting you, Shani; you're just too blind to see that."

"No you didn't," Shani sneered. "You left me because you were getting bored, and your mother gave you an easy way out. I know that, Julan, but I hate that you're too much of a coward to admit it. So you pretend that you did it for the sake of your mission, or some other load of noble guar crap."

He felt his anger rising, and a deep sense of burning shame came with it. It must have been plain on his face as well, because she was wearing that horribly smug triumphant look.

"You know I'm telling the truth, Julan – I can see it in your face. I've known you all your life, Julan, you can't lie to me. You never cou–"

"Now listen here, you little s'wit," Julan snapped, lip curling into a snarl. "You think you know _everything_ about me, don't you? But from what you've been saying, you don't know me at all. Maybe you're right about some things. Maybe I was thinking of breaking up with you, even before Mother told me to. But if you really believe that I hate you, and wouldn't come to find you if you were lost...Mephala, Shani…do you have _any idea_ how worried I was about you?"

Shani glared back at him defiantly, but she was clearly drained from her emotional outburst, and the glare wavered, her lip trembling.

"I thought you might be _dead_ , Shani!" Julan continued. "Don't you ever scare me like that again! You're damn right I've known you all my life, you're like a sister to me, and I love you more than you will ever get into your stupid little head! So don't you ever start telling me that I'd rather you were dead!"

There was an uneasy silence and Shani’s glare crumbled back into tears.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I was just angry! I didn't mean…" she stopped, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. "You're my best friend, Julan! I've been so lonely without you to talk to. Just promise me you won't be so horrible to me anymore!"

He didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms around her tightly. He felt her return the hug and after a few minutes, they pulled apart.

“Now that that’s out in the open, I can teleport us out of here,” Julan said evenly. “I set a Recall back at the entrance where I left Velyne.”

Shani blinked, her eyes still puffy from crying.

“She _is_ here?”

He nodded.

“When we heard you were missing, we went to look for you but got chased by cliffracers. She exhausted herself when she drove them off, so I left her back at the cave entrance to rest,” he explained. “Come on, you can see her yourself.”

[]

Velyne curled up under the blanket that the mer had draped over her, daring to steal a peek at him. He’d turned up not too long after Julan had left, and so far seemed to be proving friendly… Though friendly wasn’t really the right word. At the very least, his desire to help seemed genuine. Right now he was sitting guard at the mouth of the cave with his dagger in his hand.

He was certainly much older than she was. He looked like he’d seen a few centuries already. His slicked back black hair was peppered with streaks of grey and silver, as was his beard, and his face was lined and weathered. He had a hooked nose and scarlet eyes, and she’d not seen his face express anything much beyond the barest concern. And even that, she wasn’t certain she’d _actually_ seen rather than imagined.

Suddenly there was a familiar hum of energy followed by a flash of light, and Julan and Shani materialised out of thin air.

Velyne scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbling only a little as she did so.

“You found her!” she cried, hugging both of them tightly. “Shani, are you alright?”

Her eyes were pink and puffy from crying and her nose was running. Julan was also sodden wet, and Velyne could only imagine what had happened in the cave whilst she recovered from her encounter with lightning.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Shani replied a little unevenly, her voice weak. “It’s been a long few days.”

“We should get back to the Ahemmusa camp,” Julan suggested. “They’ll want to know she’s alright.”

“The worst of the storm’s cleared,” the mer said, causing Julan and Shani to jump - they’d not seen him as he rose to his feet. “Now is as good a time as any to get moving.”

“Who are you?!” Shani snapped, glaring at the mer.

“That’s an excellent question,” Julan added, glancing over to Velyne who simply shrugged. He hadn’t said, and in her exhausted state, she hadn’t really thought to ask.

“Who I am isn’t important right now,” the mer growled. “You were the idiot children who went running off into the grazelands with a storm on the horizon, and who managed to stir up a flock of cliffracers. Meaning we should get you back before you do anything else to get yourselves killed.”

He had a point. They were all exhausted and worse for wear. It was time to get going, before anymore new and exciting adventures happened upon them.

So the older mer took the lead, heading out of the cave and back towards the camp. Velyne and Julan helped Shani along the way, as her leg was still injured and a loaf of bread was hardly enough to keep her going over a long trek.

By the time they returned to the Ahemmusa camp, Velyne didn’t doubt that they all felt like they were going to fall apart then and there.

“It’s Shani!” a voice cried. “The Outlander found Shani!”

Scouts raced over from the yurts and wasted no time taking Shani from Velyne and Julan.

“Thank you Outlander,” said Gunta as Shani was taken away to one of the nearby yurts. “Losing Shani would have cost the tribe dearly. We have precious few hunters as it is, and we will be forever grateful for your assistance.” He then turned to Julan, and offered him an apologetic look. "While this is a good thing you have done, Julan, you know that still won't change anything in the eyes of Ahmabi."

Julan grimaced but nodded his head.

“If you wish to speak to Shani, you may return in a day or two Outlander, once she has recovered,” Gunta went on, looking at Velyne. He then looked morbidly curious. “Some hours ago, we witnessed a curious sight. Strange lightning, which we have never seen the likes of, over in the Foyada.”

“That was me,” Velyne sighed. “We had a slight cliffracer problem…”

Gunta nodded knowingly. “A most impressive display for an Outlander. And impressive even for an Ashlander. Know that you have the respect of our hunters.”

Velyne wasn’t really thinking about respect. She would much rather get back to Mashti’s camp and get some rest herself. Her body was still fatigued from the effort of holding back lightning. And it seemed that Gunta realised this, as he inclined his head and strode away into the camp.

“We should head back to camp,” Julan suggested, looking over at Velyne.

“Yeah… Before anything else happens,” she muttered. She was feeling tired again and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a soft bed and go to sleep. A bedroll in a yurt would more than suffice.

“I’ll see you back to your camp, lest you get jumped by something else,” the other mer interjected, causing them both to jump. Somehow they’d forgotten he was there again.

“Why do you care about us getting around safely?” Julan snapped. “You don’t know us.”

“My reasons are my own, n’wah,” the mer snorted. “Be grateful. Had I not saved your fool hide, you’d be digested in an ogrim’s belly, your friend would still be trapped in that cave, and your friend _here_ would still be sitting in the open waiting for someone to rob her or something to eat her.”

Julan opened his mouth to retort, but Velyne held up a hand.

Ordinarily she wouldn’t be certain about trusting an utter stranger either, but she was too tired to care right now. He’d made sure that the three of them made it back from that cave safely, so for now, he was good in her book.


	16. Dark Truths

It was late afternoon by the time Velyne awoke and Julan was still fast asleep, wrapped around her in a tangle of limbs. Not wanting to wake him, she carefully removed herself from the bedroll and sat up, stretching though this might have been a mistake, as her muscles whined in complaint. Her body was still recovering from the previous day it seemed. She shouldn’t be so surprised, she’d never used magic like that before. She hadn’t even known that she _could_. Desperation had taken over, and she’d acted on instinct. Was it any wonder that the others in the guild had warned her against just that? Overreaching with magic was asking for trouble, and usually ended badly. But what else was there to do? There had been so many cliffracers, and they’d had no other way out.

She shook her head. There was no point worrying about it now. It was done and they were alive, and her fatigue was enough to teach her to never try something like that ever again.

As she dressed, she became aware of voices outside. One was Mashti, of that she was certain. The other had to be the mer that had found them in the Grazelands.

Mashti certainly hadn’t been happy to see her son in the presence of yet another Outlander when they returned to the camp, especially one so haughty and aloof. What they could possibly have to talk about, Velyne had no idea. They were too distant to listen in on, and the moment she left the yurt, they’d know she was there and probably stop speaking. But there were questions that needed answers: mainly, who this mer was and why he’d decided to help them.

How he found them was obvious. The lightning had been seen for miles around and so it’d have been hard for anyone not to know that someone was casting magic there. But most people would have steered clear for fear of encountering some mad mage. This mer clearly wasn’t most people.

Deciding that lurking in the yurt wasn’t getting her any closer to those answers, Velyne stepped out onto the beach. The mer was sitting by the water’s edge cross-legged, whilst Mashti stood not far from him, and though she wasn’t glaring at him quite so suspiciously anymore, she clearly wasn’t pleased with his presence. As expected, the moment Velyne stepped outside, the conversation came to an immediate halt and Mashti headed back into her yurt without a single glance at either of them.

The other mer glanced over his shoulder at Velyne and gave her a curt nod before turning his gaze back out to sea.

“You have questions, no doubt,” he said, not looking around. “We Drals _do_ have a habit of getting just about everywhere, and wanting to know everything. I’m starting to think it runs in the family.”

Velyne stared at him in shock, momentarily stunned into silence. She marched over to him, heart drumming in her chest.

“What did you just call me?” she demanded.

“A Drals,” he replied like it wasn’t supposed to be a complete shock. “You certainly have the look. Our family always had distinctive facial features - the nose, the jawline, even the shape of your eyes. All a dead giveaway once you know them.”

“Then are you-?”

“No. I’m not.”

Velyne deflated somewhat, but there was still a chance he knew _something_.

“Then who are you?”

“I am Ioreth Drals, a Master Assassin of the Morag Tong,” he replied curtly. “Usually I know everything there is to know about our family, and could tell you our exact lineage. Embarrassing as it may be in places.” He glared coldly over the water, as though it had offended him somehow, though he didn’t elaborate further on it. “But there are blind spots, even to me. It’s hard to keep tabs on those who leave Morrowind. Tamriel is a vast place, filled with dangers. Even the most vigilant of assassins can only see so far from one corner of the world.”

“And yet you somehow knew I was a Drals from my face alone?” she asked doubtfully.

Ioreth shrugged. “I am a master assassin. It’s my job to find things out.”

“There must be more to it than that!” she snapped. “You must have known my parents, you have to know!”

He sighed, and looked up at her with a look approaching that of apologetic.

“But I don’t. So many of my cousins left Morrowind, tempted by the promises offered by the Empire. What happened to them, which of them had children, if any of them are even still alive… I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

She didn’t want to believe him. Why should she? He’d walked in, basically out of nowhere, and claimed to be her family and yet he didn’t know her parents? It was a lie, it had to be. If only because it being a lie might make this horrible feeling of heartbreaking disappointment go away.

“So you’re… what to me then?” she asked half-heartedly, doing her best to keep her voice even.

“I don’t have to be anything to you,” he replied listlessly. “A cousin, I suppose, probably removed once or twice. Though if you want to call me uncle or ‘that old cranky s’wit’, then feel free. Most of the younger ones do.”

“Younger ones?” she asked curiously.

“Mostly apprentices these days,” he said casually. “My brother’s children used to, and so did my cousins and their children, but many have moved on from Morrowind and I have not seen them in many years. And my sister’s little girl can’t sleep through the night yet, let alone talk.”

“You don’t have any children of your own?”

“My apprentices are enough of a handful, and taking them on doesn’t require me taking a sexual interest in others,” he said flatly, giving her a deadpan look that told her not to press the subject any further. So she decided not to, opting to press the issue on the topic he’d evaded earlier.

“So how is it you just _happen_ to know I was a Drals?” she asked. “If you really think I’m going to believe it was from my face alone...”

At that, Ioreth actually chuckled.

“I keep tabs on more than just family, girl,” he said. “I watch after my apprentices, and was about to intervene on Huleeya’s behalf before you stepped in. I was curious when I saw your face. I had to wonder.”

Velyne frowned. “You were there in the Black Shalk? I don’t remember seeing you.”

“Then I’m doing my job,” he pointed out, smirking. “I followed you around Vivec for a while, hoping to sate my curiosity. I overheard you and the khajiit talking-”

“And you heard Addhiranirr call me by name,” Velyne sighed. That made far more sense.

Ioreth nodded. “I decided to keep tabs on you after that. Figure out why you’d come to Vvardenfell, and why you were reporting to Caius Cosades of all people. Not to mention the Ashlander boy. They don’t leave their clans lightly, the Ashlanders.”

“You’ve been following us all over Vvardenfell?!”

“No, I had people watching you,” he grunted. “I was in Vos on a contract when one of them tipped me off and said you were in the area. I thought I’d check in on you personally after what Divayth told me.” He shook his head. “Corprus. You’re damned lucky to be alive.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she snorted. Sometimes she could almost swear she could feel the burning sensation of the disease in her veins, in her skin, and she kept checking her wrist to make sure it wasn’t blackening again. It hadn’t but even so, she couldn’t help but worry about Divayth’s ‘cure’ sometimes.

“Well, I saw that bit of magic you did. That kind of brilliance borders on utter insanity, tinged with desperation and stupidity,” he went on. “I saw you and the boy go into the cave. Heard you talking about that other girl you were looking for, and decided to make sure you all made it back in one piece. The Grandmaster’ll have my hide when he finds out, but it’s hardly the first time I’ve gone off book.” He shrugged nonchalantly, head cocking to one side slightly. “Besides, he can’t afford to not have me around.”

“So now what?”

“Now I need to get back to work,” he said, straightening up and stretching. “I spoke with the mabrigash, Mashti. Made sure it’s clear where we both stand on the current matter at hand.” He gave her a knowing look. “You make sure you look after this… ‘Nerevarine’ of yours. I get the feeling she’ll skin you alive if anything happens to him. Or if she finds out what you’re really up to.”

“I’m not up to anything,” Velyne grunted. “I didn’t ask for… whatever this mess is.”

Ioreth gave her a very grim look.

“None of us ever do.”

[]

After Ioreth departed the camp (with the promise that he’d be keeping an eye on things in future), Velyne decided to head to the Ahemmusa camp whilst Julan was still asleep. She still had to speak to Shani about Mashti, and what it was she’d done to be exiled in the first place.

The Ashlanders were more welcoming than they’d been in the past, and directed Velyne to Shani quite willingly. She was still recovering from her ordeal and her leg was heavily bandaged, but she still seemed quite relieved to see Velyne if not a bit tired.

“Not just here for a friendly chat, I bet,” she guessed as Velyne took a seat by the fire.

“I’d prefer friendly over antagonistic,” she replied, earning a grin from the other mer. “You said before that you’d tell me more about Mashti. The truth about her and Julan, and all of this mess.”

Shani paused and bit her lip worriedly.

“I’ll tell you what I can, but I can’t tell you everything. Not here,” she said in a low voice. “You never know who might overhear.”

“Just tell me what you can.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you why Mashti was exiled. It was a few years ago now. Han-Sashael and his hunting party left the camp to roam around the Grazelands, hunting, foraging and chasing off any potential threats to the tribe. They were all the greatest warriors of our tribe, and were proud. Then one day, they came across some daedra. Hungers, the Wise Woman called them. To see four at once was strange, and the warriors were wary of them. The daedra stood there, like they were… _waiting_ for them. So the warriors attacked. They fought the daedra, bow and blade. It wasn’t long before the daedra fled… Not too quickly, just enough to lure the Ashkhan and his warriors into following.

"The daedra fled into a cave. The Ashkhan, believing the daedra were afraid, decided to hunt them down so that the warriors could bring back their skins as trophies. He tells one man to stand watch at the cave mouth, and tells another to run back to the camp and bring the packguar, for the carrying of the prizes. So he ran, and then her saw her. She moving fast between the rocks, straight to the cave. He did not see her face, she was too far away, but he see the sun shine off her dagger.

"The warrior was afraid, for he knew of the witch-women, and what they do to men with their ghost-snake. He remained still and did not move. He watch as she summoned her evil magics. She killed the man at the cave mouth, Ainab. He was a big man, but she made it look effortless. She went into the cave after the Ashkhan and his warriors. The warrior then heard the screaming. The warrior ran back to the camp as fast as he could, fetching everyone who could hold a weapon. They ran back to the cave, but they were too late.

"The cave was filled with dead warriors and dead daedra. Mashti had left many Daedra in that cave, waiting for the men. And not a single one escaped. But Han-Sashael, he was not among the dead, and there was no sign of any witch either. She lured him into the deep tunnels, where she could catch him unawares, for she could never beat him in a fair fight, even with daedra. The warriors heard his dying scream, but never found his body.

"When our people heard that our Ashkhan was dead, they were very much afraid. They took the bodies of the warriors, and ran. And when they got far from the cave, they look, and again they saw the witch-woman. She came out that cave with not a single drop of blood on her – those daedra, they didn’t so much as scratch her. But our people were too frightened to seek vengeance upon her for our dead, for her magic was too powerful.

"It was a dark day for our tribe. Many of our warriors were cruelly slain. Brothers, and sisters, and cousins. Our most brave Ashkhan. The tribe may never recover again. All because of what Mashti did.”

[]

Velyne didn’t tell Julan about what she and Shani had talked about. Just that she’d gone to check on her and that they’d chatted a while about meaningless trivialities. He seemed to have brought it, and Velyne was relieved for it. After all, she doubted he’d react well to hearing that Shani and the rest of the tribe were accusing Mashti of murdering the Ashkhan.

It was unsettling to think about. Sure Velyne didn’t exactly _like_ Mashti per say, but to think of her as a murderer was just too much. She was a bitter, suspicious old woman who didn’t trust anyone, but had yet to really come off as a cold blooded, cunning murderer.

 _But what about those women she had you kill_ , a snide little voice hissed in the back of her mind.

Velyne decided to ignore it and focused instead on the task at hand. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved to be heading back to Balmora. No doubt Caius had been waiting for her to report in… Or waiting for some news of her death from corprus.

What she didn’t expect was there to be a cart outside of the squat hovel, half loaded with sealed crates and boxes and manned by an irate looking orc. He glared at them suspiciously as he continued loading crates into the back of the cart but otherwise didn’t try to stop them.

The inside of the hovel was bare, and cleaner than Velyne had ever seen it. It was now more of a house than it had been in all the times she’d been in there. The bookcase was bare, as was the table, and all traces of the lingering smell of skooma and moon sugar seemed to have disappeared.

Caius was standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed and looking smarter than Velyne could have ever imagined. He wore a black velvet tunic with scarlet trim and molded leather boots, and over that he wore a travelling cloak. He’d cleaned himself up by the looks of it, and it only made Velyne feel uneasy.

He looked up as the two mer stepped inside, and nodded at them both, looking somewhat grim.

"Good to see you Velyne, and you Julan. And by the looks of it, Fast Eddie owes me fifty drakes,” he noted, raising an eyebrow as he gave Velyne a thin smile. “I'm very happy you've been cured. Unfortunately, I've had a bit of bad news.”

“Of course you have,” she said dryly. “Why would the Divines ever let you give me good news?”

Caius grimaced. “Why indeed,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I've been recalled to the Imperial City. I've only waited here to give you your final orders before I go."

For a moment Velyne was stunned. And then she laughed. She laughed because it was the only thing that might stop her from vomiting out of sheer dread.

“Pull the other one,” she said, her smile cold and disbelieving, though she almost felt like she was begging him to turn around and say it was all a joke.

The look on his face said otherwise.

“There’s problems with some… internal politics,” he explained tiredly, shaking his head. "Mostly regarding issues of succession back in the Imperial City. The Emperor is getting on in years, and as his health declines, factions are maneuvering for advantage. For that, I may be gone a while. There's also been some concern about my sugar, but they can't recall me simply for that reason alone.”

“And yet you’re still going to go back?” Velyne said incredulously. “Even with everything going on here?”

“I thought about refusing the recall,” Caius confessed, “but they have members of my family back in the capital, so…I can't. This is why I'm promoting you to Operative. That makes you the ranking Blades agent here in Vvardenfell district. As far as I know, anyway."

“Wait, what?!”

Leaving her here without any promise of future guidance was one thing, but basically handing her control of the Blades in Vvardenfell? That was quite another. A responsibility, a _huge_ one that she felt in no way prepared to handle. She was a damned thief after all, one that had turned tail and ran when things got too heavy for her. How could she possibly be the ranked Blades agent in Vvardenfell?

"There may be other Blades agents here I don't know about. It wouldn't surprise me," Caius said. "You'll have expenses."

"Did anyone think to ask me what _I_ thought before this was decided?!” she snapped, glaring at him.

“It was on short notice, and with very little time to come up with a solution,” Caius said shortly. “I only received the call a couple of days ago. This is the best way to make sure you have as much free reign as possible. Don’t concern yourself with what’s going on in the Imperial City. Think locally. Continue pursuing the Nerevarine prophecies, as the Emperor commands. First, go to the Hall of Wisdom and Justice, and get Mehra Milo to help you find the lost prophecies. She's being watched; if something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word ‘Amaya.’”

Velyne nodded stiffly, even as she felt her anxiety gnawing at her. She’d always had Caius pointing the direction, telling her where to go. And before that, it was Amaund Christophe who’d given the orders on the heists and jobs. It now struck her that unless the goal was simply her own survival, she’d always had someone else to point the direction and tell her where to go.

And perhaps Caius sensed her uncertainty as he gripped her shoulder and offered her a reassuring smile.

“Once you have the lost prophecies, take them to Nibani Maesa. She’ll tell you where to go from there,” he said firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

He threw Julan a glance, and Julan nodded in agreement. Satisfied, Caius turned and reached into a basket by the door and pulled out a large package.

"There's some gold, and a few other things in here for you,” he said. “And you can use the house until I return; don’t worry about rent, I’ve taken care of it."

Velyne nodded. She somehow doubted he would’ve extended the same courtesy to the dunmer he met all those months ago. Caius wasn’t a bad sort, in fact she’d found herself coming to like him even after their rocky first meeting. Back when she’d held her spear to his throat.

He moved to leave, when Velyne called him back.

“Caius?”

He paused in the doorway, looking at her curiously.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He smiled and nodded.

“You take care of yourself,” he said. “And I expect a full report to end up on my desk with all the details when you’re done. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

And with that he left, the door swinging shut behind him. Velyne crossed to the window and peered out, watching as Caius climbed up into the cart. The guar were roused from their rest and soon enough Caius was trundling away down the street. Around the corner, he was going… Going… Gone.

[]

_“Why did you leave me Vel? Why did you leave me to die?”_

_Velyne ran through the burning safe house, barely skidding to a stop in time as a beam crashed down in front of her, splintering the floor. The smoke stung her eyes and throat, even as she tried to cover her face with her scarf, and the overwhelming heat left her plastered with sweat._

_“You could have saved me… so why didn’t you?”_

_Ayrea’s voice echoed through the darkness, cold and harsh, so unlike it had been in life._

_“Will you save me this time Vel? Or will you only save yourself, as always?”_

_Another dead end. The smoke choked out any light from the flames. The shadows were deep and it was hard to know where anything was as the darkness closed in._

_“Even Addhiranirr was disposable in the end. She let you into her bed, and you took everything she had to offer before you ran away with it. Even me.”_

_Velyne would have given anything to shut out Ayrea’s voice,_ anything _, and yet she wouldn’t stop talking._

_“And what about Julan? What will you take from him I wonder?”_

_Velyne kicked the door in, the last one she knew stood between her and Ayrea. The room was dark, and lying there trapped beneath the beams was Ayrea. The little girl lay limp and dead - once again, Velyne hadn’t reached her in time._

_But this time, she wasn’t the only one there. Standing over the crushed body of Ayrea was the taller, grown Ayrea. The one who’d never existed, with her cold eyes and perfect golden waves. She was dressed in a gown blacker than the void, and her skin was so pale she was almost translucent._

_“Too late. Always too late,” she said coolly. “Tell me,_ Ash _, does anyone really mean anything to you?”_

_Velyne growled, glaring back at the adult Ayrea._

_‘She’s not real. It’s just Dagoth Ur trying to get into your head.’_

_“Is it though, Ash?” asked Ayrea, as though reading her mind. “Is Dagoth Ur to blame? Or is it your own guilty conscience finally catching up with you?”_

_A hand ran up Velyne’s arm and pressed up against her back seductively was Shani. Except it wasn’t Shani, because this one was more beautiful than words could describe, with eyes that glittered like rubies and hair that glowed like fire, and full lips that she pressed tantalizingly against Velyne’s neck. It looked like her, but at the same time it didn’t._

_“You don’t_ need _Julan, you know,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m stronger than he is. I’m_ better _than he is. You don’t need him. I can give you everything you need, everything you_ want _.”_

_Velyne felt her face grow warm and she pried herself free from the fake Shani’s grasp, stumbling into the centre of the room. The fake Shani didn’t seem deterred or put out. She looked amused, and held out a hand._

_“Now there’s no need to be like that,” she purred. “After all, what has Julan ever given you anyway? How fast was he to discard you when he so rudely listened in on your conversation with Caius? It would be fair game, throwing him away for something better. And it’s not like he’ll have you anymore. Not after what you did to Mashti.”_

_Velyne frowned, momentarily confused when suddenly her hands felt wet. She looked down at her palms. They were slick with blood, and lying dead at her feet, staring up at her accusingly, was Mashti._

_The fake Shani was upon her again, curling her arms around Velyne from behind._

_“Don’t feel bad. She deserved it for what she’d done. And you brought honour to our clan. They would welcome you into our fold, make you the first female Ashkhan history has ever known. You don’t need a weakling like Julan to hold you back… Not from this. Not from me.”_

_“You’ll do all of this” Ayrea interjected with cold amusement. "You’ll take Shani, his mother, his whole clan. They will love an Outlander before they love him. And what’s more, you will take his destiny, Nerevarine.”_

_Velyne tried to push away the fake Shani with little success. Ayrea’s lip curled a little more and she sauntered over, towering over Velyne in a way she had never done in life. She hooked a finger under Velyne’s chin and tilted her head back to meet her gaze._

_“Tell me, thief… If you ever really loved anyone, why do you always leave them alone in the dark?”_


	17. The Lost Prophecies

It was hard to tell if the Ordinators always gave off such an unfriendly aura, or if it was just to anyone who wasn’t a part of the priesthood. Regardless, Velyne made sure to keep her head down as she and Julan hurried past them into the temple library in search of Mehra Milo.

Caius’ orders had been to go speak to Mehra and find out if she’d dug up anything on the Lost Prophecies. Supposedly, they were the key that would help them fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies and the Tribunal had worked very hard to suppress them, no matter the cost. Velyne just hoped that if Mehra had found something, she’d not been found out just yet.

It seemed that the Divines were not feeling kind, as when they reached the library, Mehra was nowhere in sight and all of the priests and librarians looked very wary, constantly checking over their shoulders as if someone might materialise behind them and demand to know what they were doing. It seemed they’d be the ones to ask about Mehra then.

“No one’s seen her since she retired to her quarters last night,” one of them squeaked, visibly sweating. “You may want to look there. Just opposite the canton offices, you can’t miss it.”

Velyne knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but with the Ordinators around, could she expect any less? Something had happened, and no one wanted to talk about it for fear that they would be next. She just hoped that they weren’t too late.

Mehra’s room was locked, but Velyne had always been handy with picking locks under pressure and within a few seconds the door swung open. Once inside, she eased the door shut again. No sense in drawing the attention of the Ordinators. Velyne wasn’t keen on finding out what they did to their prisoners, at least not yet.

The room itself was oddly tidy. There were no signs of any struggle. The shelves were orderly and the bed was neatly made. It was like no one had been in the room at all recently. Which was odd.

“Take a look around,” she said to Julan. “She must have left something for us.”

“If she made it back here at all,” Julan noted with a touch of worry in his voice. 

Velyne raised an eyebrow.

“I never thought I’d hear you show concern for a temple priest,” she commented dryly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

He pulled a face, crossing the room to search the vanity whilst Velyne focused her magicka. Her days as a thief meant that detection spells were always useful, and she and Addhiranirr had managed to create one of their own. The colours of the room washed out and sure enough Mehra’s hidden possessions became highlighted in her vision. Most interesting was the pair of potion bottles and a square of parchment hastily bundled away in Mehra’s chest of drawers.

Velyne pulled open the drawer and pushed aside the robes, revealing a folded note and two levitation potions. She ended the spell and unfolded the note.

_ Amaya, _

_ Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock. _

_ Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in. _

_ Your faithful friend, _

_ Mehra _

_ PS: I left a couple of Levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn't remember if you knew the spell or not, so I drew a couple from stock. _

“Shit.”

“Did you find something?” Julan asked, looking up. Velyne handed him the note, and his look of confusion twisted into a snarl. “Those Ordinator bastards! They’ve locked her up!”

“She must have found something that Lord Vivec doesn’t want getting out,” Velyne said coolly, eyes narrowing. “Do we still have those Divine Intervention Scrolls?”

“Two of them, yeah. But it’s one per person,” he pointed out. “We’ll need another if we both go.”

“It’ll be enough,” she said. “I’ve done prison breaks before. I can manage.”

Julan balked. “You’re going up there alone?! Vel, the Ministry of Truth isn’t just  _ any _ prison! The Ordinators-”

“Might be expecting us, depending on how much they know, and they might expect us to go together,” she interrupted. “I can move faster on my own and I’m much less likely to get caught. That being said, I  _ will _ need you on standby just in case.”

She held up her hand, flashing her communication ring.

“The second they do, I’ll contact you.”

He still didn’t look happy about it.

“Alright, fine. But I’m still going to get a Divine Intervention Scroll, just in case I need to come get you,” he said adamantly. “And if I don’t, then let me know when you’re both out and I’ll meet you outside of the city, near the caravan tower.”

“Alright. Now, we need to get a move on.” She handed him some gold and one of the levitation potions. “This should be enough to get you a Divine Intervention Scroll from the Mages Guild. Just in case you need to get up there.”

Julan took the gold and the potion and stuffed them into his pack. Then he pulled out the two Divine Intervention Scrolls and gave them to Velyne.

“Part of me really hopes I won’t have to,” he admitted, his eyes fixed on Velyne. “Just… promise not to die up there, okay?”

“No prison’s killed me yet,” Velyne said wryly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

The Ministry of Truth was a prison carved from a moonlet that was suspended over Vivec City by the Living God himself when it descended from the sky and nearly destroyed the city centuries ago. It also made a very effective threat against any who might refuse Vivec’s rule. If the people were to turn on him, there was nothing to stop him from letting the moonlet destroy Vivec and killing everyone in the city. Funny how one who demanded faith didn’t seem to have much to give in return.

Walkways stuck out from the moonlet’s surface, allowing the Ordinators and those authorised to enter the Ministry to access the doors leading inside. Velyne landed on one such walkway and took a look around. Mehra’s note had said to look for an Ordinator named Alvela Saram. Someone who was most likely sympathetic to the priestess and would help Velyne find a way inside. Luckily finding her didn’t take long.

She was one of the only Ordinators that Velyne had seen without a helmet. She wore her dark red hair in a tight knot and she had a somewhat haughty expression. When she caught sight of Velyne, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t raise the alarm.

"I'm sorry. No pilgrims allowed in the Ministry. I'll have to ask you to leave... but… you're not here to visit anyone, are you?"

“I was hoping to break someone out actually. Velyne Drals.”

Alvela nodded, then glanced around before pulling a key from her belt.

"Mehra said you would come. I'll say you subdued me with magic and stole my key. It opens all three exterior doors -- the upper back door is best. You'll need other keys for other doors inside. Search for the keys in desks; no one carries keys while on duty. Mehra is in Prison Keep in the cell on the top row at the end on the far right. Mehra said you'd bring scrolls to get out.”

She said all of this very hurriedly, no doubt worried that one of her fellows might happen by.

“ Some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but kill an Ordinator, and you'll lose that sympathy," Alvela warned. “Now get going.”

[]

The halls of the Ministry were dark, and if Velyne had had no prior experience with such a place, she might have struggled more. But as it were, slipping back into the skin of a thief was far easier than she wanted to admit. It was almost as the shadows welcomed her back into their embrace as she slipped through the narrow stone corridors silently, a prickle of excitement needling at her skin.

The Ordinators patrolled the halls, all dressed in heavy armour that looked sturdier than the standard fare she’d seen down in the city. Given that this was a prison, it wasn’t hard to see why. Dealing with prisoners who could well be dangerous meant that precautions needed to be taken to prevent them from escaping or causing the guards any harm. The fact they would hold Mehra in such a place was testimony to how determined the Tribunal were to keep their secrets buried.

Before long, Velyne managed to locate the Grand Inquisitor’s office. So far all of the locked doors into the prison keep had been warded and her lock picks and spells had proved ineffective, so she’d had to follow up on Alvela’s advice to search for keys. And if there was anyone in the Ministry to have keys to the prison keep and to Mehra’s cell, it was the Grand Inquisitor himself.

The door was flanked by a pair of guards, and with a Detect Life spell, Velyne was able to determine that there were another person inside the office - the Grand Inquisitor himself most likely. Getting inside without being noticed wouldn’t be easy.

She could cause a distraction to get the guards to move away from the door then set a mark and recall to this spot, putting herself behind the guards, but that risked putting the whole Ministry on alert, which was less than ideal. And Invisibility wouldn’t keep anyone from seeing the door opening and closing.

She hovered in the shadows, checking over her shoulder as she thought quickly. She might have left the life of larceny behind, but that didn’t mean she’d lost her skills and instincts. She had to stay light on her feet or risk getting caught and thrown into a cell herself.

But funnily enough, it was the Ordinators themselves that gave her an idea as he stretched and his shield grazed the other’s arm.

“Stupid s’wit, watch where you’re waving that damned shield,” barked the one on the left, apparently glowering at his companion through the visor of his helmet.

“Don’t be such an n’wah, it barely touched you,” retorted the other.

Velyne smirked and quickly cast Invisibility on herself before creeping towards the bickering Ordinators. As soon as she got close enough she cast Frenzying Touch, just as the shield Ordinator waved it in his companion’s face mockingly.

The left Ordinator leapt at him, promptly dropping his weapons as he dragged him to the floor and started pummelling him with his fists. The shield Ordinator yelled, trying to put his shield between his body and his companion’s fists to little avail. 

“What in Oblivion are you  _ doing _ , you dung head?!”

The office door burst open and a couple more Ordinators came running. For a moment they ogled at the Ordinators on the floor, as they continued tussling and hitting each other. The Grand Inquisitor quickly shouted at the pair of them.

“What are you s’wits staring around at?! Tear these two apart, right now!” he commanded, his face a very dark, angry grey. They flinched and did as they were told, diving into the fray to pull the two apart.

Whilst they were all distracted, Velyne caught sight of a set of keys swinging from the Grand Inquisitor’s belt. No doubt those would open every door and cell in the Ministry. Without hesitating she slipped forward and snatched them before slinking back into the shadows.

Down a few halls and with a couple of turns, the sounds of fighting and shouting faded and Velyne had to try hard not to laugh. So much for the mighty Ordinators. Watching them wrestle like children was more amusing than she could have dreamed.

“ _ Having fun? _ ” 

Velyne smirked as Julan’s voice whispered in her ear. No doubt he’d been listening in through their rings for any signs of trouble. She didn’t find herself terribly bothered about it this time. If anything, knowing he was ready to spring into action at any moment was comforting.

“ _ Watching Ordinators fighting like small children over a stuffed toy is far more fun than you might think, _ ” she replied. “ _ You should try it some time. _ ”

“ _ Maybe when we’re not trying to break into one of the most dangerous places in Vvardenfell. _ ”

“ _ Oh please, I can tell you now that the Imperial Prison was harder to break into than this place. But then that might be because none of the guards were sympathetic to the thieves who were breaking in. _ ”

“ _ You don’t say. _ ”

She didn’t reply to that, instead focusing on finding a door into the prison keep.

She found one soon enough and it was locked tight. She slipped the key in and prayed to all the Divines that might listen, and to her relief, the lock clicked and she was in.

The prison was one big cavernous room in the centre of the moonlet, with innumerable cells lining the walls, all connected by wooden walkways. Had Alvela not told her where to find Mehra, it could have taken more time than she had to find the priestess. There were several Ordinators in the room, but less than Velyne expected. Maybe because they thought no one would make it this far into the prison, and that their prisoners were as good as trapped. None of them noticed Velyne sneaking past invisibly.

Mehra’s cell was small and cramped and she had only the cold stone floor to sit on. It was even more abysmal than even the Imperial City’s cells, and that was saying something. At least they gave her a window and a moth-eaten blanket to sleep on in Cyrodiil. Mehra looked up as the lock of her cell door clicked and she beamed when Velyne slipped inside.

“Azura bless you, I wasn’t expecting you to come so quickly,” she sighed, rising to her feet and hugging Velyne tightly. "Do you have the Divine Intervention scrolls? I have an escape plan."

Velyne nodded and reached into her pack, pulling out the scrolls.

“Good. Now, listen. Here's my plan. Give me a Divine Intervention scroll. I'll meet you at the secret Dissident priests monastery at Holamayan. For safety, we'll travel separately. When you get out of here, look for a woman named Blatta Hateria on the East Docks of Ebonheart. Tell her I sent you, and that you want to 'go fishing.' She'll bring you to Holamayan by boat. I'll meet you there, and we'll get the lost prophecies from Gilvas Barelo, the leader of the Dissident priests. And magic conceals the Holamayan entrance - speak to Vevrana Aryon, a monk at the dock at Holamayan, about the hidden entrance. She’ll tell you how to get inside."

She said all of this very quickly, and Velyne had to focus hard to memorise it all. Mehra gave her a sympathetic smile then a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Good luck. I’ll see you soon.”

Without another word, she unfurled her scroll and in a flash of light, she vanished. Velyne felt stunned for a moment, when she heard shouting from nearby.

“What was that light? Prisoners are not allowed to use magic under any circumstances!”

“You there, go take a look!”

Velyne hastily opened her own scroll and by the time the Ordinators reached the cell, she was already long gone.

[]

When Velyne’s feet hit solid ground she realised she was already standing in Ebonheart, just by the Imperial Shrine. One of the priests jumped when she suddenly materialised out of nowhere, but seemed to guess how she had done so and said nothing else. There wasn’t anything inherently suspicious about the use of a Divine Intervention scroll after all.

Velyne twisted her ring.

“ _ Julan? _ ”

“ _ Vel, are you alright? What happened? _ ”

“ _ I got Mehra out of the Ministry and I’m in Ebonheart now. Can you meet me here? We’re going to need to get a boat from here anyway. _ ”

“ _ A boat? Nevermind, you can explain when I get there. I’ll see you soon. _ ”

It didn’t take long for Julan to arrive at the docks where Velyne had been waiting for him. He grinned at the sight of her and ran over, embracing her rightly.

“I’m so glad to see you’re alright,” he breathed. “It all worked out?” 

“Yes, Mehra got out safely and I don’t think anyone saw me,” she said, nodding. “What about you? No trouble?”

“Well a mudcrab tried stealing my shoes whilst I was waiting for you, but I wouldn’t call that trouble,” he said, shrugging. “So where is it we’re going exactly?”

Velyne just shook her head. “Not here. Someone might hear.” She glanced around, then beckoned him to follow. “We’re going to learn about the Lost Prophecies, and finally get some answers. And…” She scanned around and spotted an inconspicuously dressed imperial woman sat at the edge of the dock with a small fishing boat. “I think she’s the one who’ll get us there.”

Velyne led the way over, whilst Julan just followed, looking confused.

“Blatta Hateria?” she asked.

She looked up, frowning slightly. "Yes. That’s me. Do I know you?"

“A friend of mine, Mehra Milo, said you could take us fishing.”

A knowing look crossed Blatta’s face and she smiled wryly, nodding.

“That I can, sera. That I can.” She stood up and gestured to her boat. "I know a fine place. Excellent fishing. Mehra says it's her favorite spot. You ready to go?"

Julan blinked and seemed to be connecting the dots, and Velyne smiled.

“Ready as we’ll ever be.”

Velyne wasn’t sure that Blatta’s boat was made to carry three people, it was such a little thing and they were all crammed in, but they managed well enough. Blatta was strong and muscular, no doubt from years of rowing boats, and she made it look so easy as she cut through the water with ease. 

Ebonheart and Vivec faded into the distance and Julan turned to Velyne.

“So, do you want to tell me where it is we’re going now?” he asked.

“We’re going to Holamayan, the monastery of the Dissident Priests,” she explained. “Mehra’s going to set up a meeting with their leader for us, and he’ll give us the Lost Prophecies.”

Julan frowned. “So that’s why the Ordinators locked Mehra up? So that she couldn’t lead us to the Dissident Priests?”

“More likely I think they might have been planning to torture her and have her lead them to Holamayan,” Velyne said darkly. “At this point, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Julan and Blatta said nothing in response, but the grim looks on their faces said enough.

The journey to Holamayan took nearly a day and dusk was falling. Velyne’s insides twisted nervously as the boat drew closer to the island. She could see the monastery just visible behind the rise, and she knew that it was in there that she and Julan would be one step closer to getting their answers, except this time Caius wouldn’t be there to tell them where to go next. They had to go to Nibani and hope she would have that answer for them.

The boat came to rest at the jetty, and Velyne and Julan clambered out. They turned to give their thanks to Blatta and an elderly dunmer woman, Vevrana, approached and directed them towards the monastery’s hidden entrance. She also warned them that the entrance would seal when dusk gave way to night, and that they’d best hurry before the doors sealed shut and left them to wait until dawn.

So Velyne and Julan all but sprinted up the narrow stone path leader up the hill towards the tower Velyne had seen earlier. At the end of the path, they spotted the entrance. A simple wooden door that stood in the side of the tower. It seemed they’d made it in time, as the magical barrier did nothing to prevent them from entering the monastery and they stepped inside.

The monastery was not like the bustling chapels of Cyrodiil, or the Temple Library in Vivec, Velyne realised. There was barely anyone at all, and they regarded the two newcomers somewhat warily, though they still pointed them towards the library.

Inside they found Mehra and Gilvas Barelo sitting in a pair of ancient armchairs by the fireplace, speaking quietly and with cups of tea in their hands.

Gilvas looked up as Velyne and Julan entered and set his teacup onto a spindly table, then rose to his feet and shuffled forwards to meet them. He looked ancient, being a squat dunmer man with deep wrinkles and long, stark white hair. He wore long red robes that were nowhere near as splendorous as that worn by the Temple Priests, but were decorated with golden embroidery down the front.

“I am Master Gilvas Barelo, abbot of the Holamayan Monastery,” he greeted in a wheezy voice. “You are Velyne and Julan?  Thank you for helping Mehra. She says you are interested in the Lost Prophecies.” 

“We are, and she said that the Dissident Priests could help us,” said Velyne.

Gilvas nodded. “I believe we can help you. It wouldn't be much to ask, given how much you risked to help Mehra."

He shuffled away and out through a door at the far side of the room, returning a few minutes later with a sealed tube.

"Before you arrived, I reviewed the Apographa, and have found two passages of particular interest," Gilvas explained, holding out the sealed tube. "We've made copies of these passages to give you. Many are familiar with the two Nerevarine prophecies current among the Ashlanders called 'The Stranger' and 'The Seven Visions'. We have two other prophecies, 'The Lost Prophecy' and 'The Seven Curses' that may offer additional insights into the riddles surrounding the coming of the Incarnate. Read them later, if you like."

Velyne slipped the tube into her pack, then turned back to Gilvas.

"Perhaps these are the Lost Prophecies that you were told about," he continued. "We have also prepared a document for you called 'Kagrenac's Tools'. These documents will explain to you, and to others, the terrible secret that the Temple conceals about the true history of the Tribunal and the corrupt nature of their divine powers. It is to conceal this secret that the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine and the Dissident Priests. This persecution must stop. We must be united against the true enemy, Dagoth Ur. And if you are the Nerevarine, you must lead us against him."

Velyne couldn’t help but feel thunderstruck, and Gilvas must have noticed as he chuckled wheezily. 

“Caius and Mehra shared their information, and Mehra shared it with us,” he explained good naturedly. “But it is not any one of us who decides if you are Nerevarine. Only Azura herself can decide that. But you have had a long journey, of that I have no doubt. You may stay and rest until you are ready to depart Holamayan.”

Gilvas had another of the priests direct Velyne and Julan to one of the guest rooms. There were two beds pushed up against the walls, and the room looked as though it had gone unused for a long time. Velyne didn’t mind. She’d lived in an abandoned house for most of her life after all.

She kicked off her boots and dumped her belongings on one of the beds, then pulled out the tube that Gilvas had given her. Julan watched warily as she pulled out the documents inside, and she read them aloud:

_ “ _ _ From seventh sign of eleventh generation, _

_ Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow, _

_ But Dragonborn and far-star-marked, _

_ Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain, _

_ Blessed Guest counters seven curses, _

_ Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade, _

_ To reap the harvest of the unmourned house. _ ”

Outlander. That was clear enough. She glanced up at Julan who was already scowling.

“What does that even mean?” he complained, throwing himself down onto the bed opposite. “We’ve been wasting our time,  _ again _ .”

Velyne frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

"I was hoping to get more out of them," Julan sighed, "but it looks like they were lost for a reason. Just more stupid poetry that makes no sense."

“Or maybe they were lost because they imply an Outlander would be Nerevarine,” Velyne shot back, looking over the parchment again. “‘An outlander - foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest - confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. Their hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.’ That seems quite clear to me, Julan.”

"Well, it's stupid! Of course the Incarnate isn't going to be an Outlander. And you shouldn't forget what we're doing here - you're only pretending to be the Nerevarine to help me - we agreed to that!"

“I recall you saying it, but I don’t recall agreeing to it,” she replied icily. “And it’ll be Nibani who decides whether or not these prophecies are useless. If she thinks they are, then that’s the end of it and we start looking for new leads, and you get to say you were right.” Julan was glowering at her. “But if Nibani thinks they’re worth following, and I do think she will, then that’s what we do. I don’t care about my pride  _ or _ your’s, Julan. I care about finding out the truth.”

Finally Julan deflated and even looked a little ashamed.

“Right. Sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take this out on you. You never asked for this.”

“Damn right I didn’t. But you’re forgiven. Now, let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

[]

Nibani looked up as Velyne and Julan stepped into her yurt, and blinked, apparently surprised to see them again. She probably hadn’t been expecting them back so soon.

“Greetings Velyne, Julan,” she said calmly. “Do you have questions about the Nerevarine Prophecies? Or do you bring me news of the Lost Prophecies?”

“We met with the Dissident Priests at the Holamayan Monastery,” Velyne explained, holding out the sealed tube. “Master Balero found these for us. The Lost Prophecy, the Seven Curses, and a piece on Kagrenac’s Tools.”

Nibani’s brow furrowed as she opened the tube and pulled out the documents. She studied them hungrily, scarlet eyes flitting back and forth over the parchment. Without looking up, she waved the pair away.

"Go," she said. "You must leave me. Hunt. Sleep. Train. Feed. Learn the land. Do what you must. I must bring these things into me, and place them before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgement."

Velyne and Julan did as she asked and stepped out of the yurt.

“So… what do you want to do until she’s ready to see us again?” asked Velyne, glancing over at Julan.

He shrugged. “There’s not much to do out here. We could go for a walk, maybe set up camp somewhere?”

It was as good an idea as any, and so they set off together along the coast until they were a decent distance from the Urshilaku camp. Julan seemed to have an idea or two, as he led Velyne up a hill, insistent that it was where they should make camp.

When they reached the top, Velyne understood why. The hill was not only level at the top, but it was high enough to overlook the entire region. In the distance, Red Mountain rumbled and groaned, and Velyne could make out the shapes of cliff racers soaring in the skies not far from the Ghostfence. As they made camp, they reminded her to place wards that would keep the wildlife at bay. She didn’t fancy getting attacked by another angry flock of cliffracers.

By the time they were done and had a fire burning, night was falling and Velyne wrapped a blanket around herself as she plopped herself down in Julan’s lap, leaning back against his chest as his arms went around her waist.

It wasn’t long before the stars began to come to life, twinkling in the gathering gloom of the night sky as Secunda and Messer hung amongst them.

“When we were young, me and Ayrea would climb up onto the roof of the old house we lived in, and we’d watch the stars together,” Velyne said quietly. “She’d point out all the constellations she could see and we’d tell stories. Sometimes if I’d been able to get them, we’d eat sweets too.” She paused and then added, “we had to stop doing that when we got older, because the roof nearly gave out.”

“Is that because you ate too many sweets?” Julan joked, which earned him a half-hearted slap on the knee, and he chuckled. 

They fell quiet again, with only the crackling and occasional pop of the fire and the gentle lapping of the sea against the shore disturbing the silence.

“Velyne. Can I ask you a personal question?”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Shoot.”

"Are you a religious person? And if so, what do you believe in?"

She paused. Not quite the question she had expected.

“To be honest, before I wound up here, I didn’t really believe in anything,” she said after a few minutes of quiet contemplation. “If there were any gods, they’d turned their backs on me, I thought. My earliest memory is wandering into Cheydinhal for the first time, hungry, dirty, and alone. Whoever my parents were, they were gone. For years I just scraped my way by. I’d go to the chapel where the priests would be willing to part with some scraps. I slept in an abandoned house which the Dark Brotherhood used to get into the hideout-” She felt Julan flinch in shock at that. “-and as I got older and people got less sympathetic, I became a thief. I learned what I could get away with, how much I could take without someone noticing. I skimmed the piles and the pockets, and that led me to the Thieves Guild. If any god was watching me, they didn’t care about my suffering or my sins. Maybe they even enjoyed it.”

She laughed hollowly.

“‘Gods have no morals, that’s why they’re gods.’ A friend in the guild said that once. Ended up getting hung, drawn, and quartered by the guards when they caught him. Almost seemed poetic really,” she said dryly, before shifting. “But since coming here… I’m not so sure.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “That man who saved us. Turns out he’s my uncle.”

“Wait, what?!” Julan exclaimed. “You never mentioned this!”

“It slipped my mind to be honest,” she said shortly. “With the Lost Prophecies and everything, it wasn’t high on the list of priorities. And I say uncle, but apparently it’s more of a cousin some times removed. He doesn’t know my parents, only knows that I have the ‘family look.’” She shook her head. “Not my point. My point is that I haven’t dreamed of finding my family since I was a child. I would hope that someday my mother and father would come and take me away to somewhere that would be home, and everything would be okay. But they never did, so I stopped hoping. And then I come here, and I find a connection,

“It could be chance. A complete coincidence. Why would a god care about me finding my family? But then I look back at everything that’s happened since I got here. I don’t live in a house anymore, but I’ve never slept more comfortably than I do now, whether in a tent or in a cornerclub. People in Vivec, in Balmora, the Urshilaku, they see me and they welcome me. They say hello and ask how I’ve been. I’ve got friends that don’t break into houses and shops and don’t value me based on how well I pick a lock.” She had to pause as her voice had started trembling. “I’m not that no good thief that everyone never wants to turn their back to. I’m not some dirty street rat who they’re scared will knife them for a chance to get the gold in their purse. I’m just… Me. Just Velyne. Just… a person.”

Julan was silent, no doubt having no idea what to say, just brushing away a stray tear that had escaped her eyelashes.

“I don’t know if any gods are watching over us Julan. But after everything that’s happened, everyone I’ve met… I’m starting to think that there might be,” she said finally. “And I’d like to think that they led me here. To Caius, and Shani. To Mehra and Nibani. And to you.”

She turned so that she was facing him, and his face was glowing in the darkness, his lips stretched into a smile.

“I’d like to think that to,” he said warmly. “My people worship the Good Daedra, of course. And our ancestors… although, well, I don't have any myself. Mother said that Azura would protect me, but I'm not so sure anymore. It's funny… I used to think that anyone who didn't share the same beliefs as me was wrong and, well, a bad person. But now I've met so many people who believe all kinds of different things. And lots of them are good people. Like Mehra, or Divayth Fyr... and you."

“Me?” Velyne snorted with playful indignation, the sort which usually flustered him because he’d thought he’d genuinely offended her. By now, however, he’d caught on as he laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Yeah. I mean, you're not perfect. No one is. But you are a good person,” he said. “I mean, you must be, to have put up with me for so long. How many times have you saved my skin now?"

“I lost count after stopping those clannfear from chewing on your legs,” she joked, tracing her fingers up his jaw and lacing them into his hair. “And for the record, I don’t put up with you. I  _ like  _ having you around.” She paused, and then added, “I wouldn’t complain if you stopped jumping to conclusions though.”

“Heh. For you, I’ll try. And thank you.”

He leaned down, pressing their lips together and Velyne kissed back firmly, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and her hand pressed into his back to keep him close whilst her free hand dragged itself through his hair. His own hands were wandering down her sides and back, on her hips and then slipped a bit lower and Velyne’s breath hitched.

Julan broke the kiss, hands shifting further back up to her waist. His face had gone so dark it was near purple he was blushing so badly. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Now, I may appear to be the model of self-control- Stop sniggering!" Velyne only giggled harder. Somehow his face went even darker as his blush intensified, and that was nothing on his ears, which could well have steam pouring out of them. "But I'll have you know it's only my iron willpower preventing me from jumping on you and tearing all of your…uh…” He stumbled, and he seemed to be in retreat, though it seemed other parts of him were firmly against such an idea. “I'm getting very distracted here, so I'm going to stop..."

Velyne caught his hands and stopped him.

“And if I don’t want you to?” she purred, eyes glittering in the darkness. 

Julan seemed to have stopped breathing as he stared at her in near disbelief. She wondered if she’d pushed too far, too quickly. But then his flush seemed to go down and his eyes met her’s.

“And would you… be offended, if we were to…?” 

One hand traced her belt, the other cupped her face.

“Is this the face of an offended woman, Julan?” she whispered.

He grinned and leaned in, his lips a scant inch from her’s.

“No,” he said as he eased her down to lie on her back, his hand opening the buckle of her belt. “No I dare say it isn’t.”


	18. Moon and Star

Velyne shifted closer against Julan as the late afternoon sun crept in through the tent flap and traced lazily over her eyes which were determinedly squeezed shut. She didn’t want the moment to end. Bad things happened when the moment ended. And she was warm here, she was safe. How long had it been since she’d last let anyone touch her that way? Long enough, she decided. And she never wanted it to be that long again.

She felt Julan’s chest rumble as he chuckled.

“You should see your face right now,” he murmured. “You get this little knot in your brow when you’re determined to win.”

“And I’m going to win,” she grumbled, pressing herself against Julan.

He grinned, stroking her hair whilst tracing circles between her shoulder blades. She was practically purring as they cuddled, more content than she could have ever dreamed. After a while, Julan shifted and reached into his pack.

“Before we got, ah… carried away last night,” he began, pulling something out of one of the pockets and sitting up. Velyne followed, albeit slightly reluctantly, pushing her long hair out of her face as he held something out to her. “I meant to give you this.”

It was an amulet, lovingly crafted with delicate amethysts set into the steel, and when Velyne took it in her hands, she could feel the gentle hum of magicka against her fingers. Daedric script was etched into the rim, and Velyne had no idea what it said.

She looked up at Julan and grinned craftily.

“Is this a proposal?” she asked.

He chuckled, flushing only a little. It seemed that sharing a bed had made him more difficult to fluster.

“That wasn’t my intention, I’m afraid,” he said. “When I was at the Mage’s Guild, you know to get a spare Divine Intervention Scroll? Well, I saw this and thought… I wanted it to be a gift. To say thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I know it’s not much, but it should be useful. The enchantment on it will fortify your magicka and-”

Velyne cut him off with a kiss, all whilst beaming from ear to ear. Julan was taken aback by the interruption, but certainly wasn’t displeased. She handed the amulet back to him and pulled her hair out of the way. He fastened it around her neck, and the amulet hung there neatly, warm and tingling against her chest.

“It’s a wonderful gift, Julan,” she said sincerely. “Thank you.”

He grinned somewhat dopily, then glanced out of the tent. The sun was sinking towards the horizon.

“And we’ve slept the day away,” he said. “We should probably head back. Who knows how  long Nibani’s been waiting for us.”

Velyne sighed, but nodded her head. It was time to get back to reality. She would have been happy to stay in their tent, in their personal little world a while longer, but when the world beckoned, they were helpless to do anything but answer.

So they dressed after recovering the clothing they’d left scattered outside, with Julan having to recover his trousers from a pair of ash hoppers. Once that was done, they packed up their camp and headed back to the Urshilaku camp.

Nibani was waiting patiently inside and didn’t question why they’d taken so long to come back. She waited until they were seated before beginning, and Velyne could feel the dread clawing its way back into the seat of her stomach.

"The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs, and the lost prophecies leave no doubt. The Incarnate shall be an outlander.” She turned to Velyne and offered a rare smile. “You, Velyne Drals, may become the Nerevarine. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur.”

The air turned very cold, despite the fire burning in the centre of the yurt and Julan’s lips had pressed into a thin line. Velyne’s own chest had constricted tightly and she tried to keep her breathing steady even as she felt like she might be drowning. She wanted to be back in the tent, just her and Julan and none of this Nerevarine nonsense.

“Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way,” Nibani went on, either unaware of the tension in the room or in spite of it. “It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions.”

She turned to Velyne.

“You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents. So you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfill the second trial, that 'neither blight nor age can harm him. The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies'. I have read the signs, but I cannot understand. Can you explain this to me?"

“I was cured of Corprus,” Velyne said, her throat very dry.

Nibani blinked, a brief look of surprise flitting across her face.

"That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief. Yet the signs of my dreams are clear. You have passed the second trial,” she said, nodding. “But the third trial is unfulfilled. The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of the third trial. When you have fulfilled the third trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine."

Julan didn’t say anything as they left the yurt. He seemed to be restraining himself, making an effort not to get angry with Velyne over his own frustration. She found herself almost wishing he would, if only because their usual bickering helped her clear her own head. Still it could wait until after they spoke with Sul-Matuul. An argument in the middle of the camp would only draw unwanted attention.

Sul-Matuul was waiting inside his yurt, sitting by the fire. When they entered, he rose to his feet to greet them in a far more friendly manner than the last time Velyne had seen him.

He clasped each of them by the shoulders.

“My friends. My heart is glad that the gods have guided you safely back to us,” he said before stepping back, looking specifically at Velyne. "You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe. But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test.”

“What do you need me to do?” Velyne asked, not once moving her gaze from his.

He gave her a very grim look, turning back to the fire.

“Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again. It was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the Third Trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn,

“The first token is corprus weepings from a corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Test."

[]

Julan was quiet for most of the trip to Kogoruhn, and Velyne sighed and turned to him.

“Go ahead,” she said bluntly. “Have your rant.”

He hesitated.

“Bottling everything up won’t help, and I’m frustrated to,” she encouraged. “Who knows, maybe some arguing will make us both feel better. So go on.”

“It’s just…” he paused, and then all of his frustration poured out. “This isn't getting me anywhere, Velyne! How am I supposed to carry out my mission if we're getting all sidetracked with a stupid prophecy that isn't even right?"

“And what do you propose we do? Find a shrine to Azura and yell at her?”

“I don’t know! But I don't like this. It's all heading in the wrong direction,” he pressed, running a hand through his hair. “They should have realized you're not the one by now. Something's not right here."

“Well this cave that the Ashkhan mentioned is our best shot,” she pointed out. “Sul-Matuul seems pretty determined to test us before even telling us anything about it.”

He didn’t seem quite placated, but didn’t have any other arguments. His arms fidgeted at his sides, and Velyne took his hands in her own.

“Look, I don’t know anymore than you where all of this is going,” she said firmly. “All we can do is just follow whatever leads we have, and this is the only one we’ve got. And if this cave is really so important to Azura, there’s probably a shrine for you to yell at her through.”

He snorted, trying to suppress a laugh as he glanced down at his feet, squeezing her hands.

“Why do you always have the best solutions?” he joked.

“Maybe because I’m a godless heathen,” she replied, grinning. “Now come on. Let’s just go get these tokens and head back to the camp. The sooner we get this third trial over with, the better.”

She got the distinctive feeling that they were being watched as they turned to continue on their way to Kogoruhn, but her Detect Life spell showed only a few scribs in their immediate vicinity, so she decided she had to be imagining things.

The ruined complex was crawling with creatures and unfortunate souls blighted with corprus. Velyne would have felt worse about killing them if they weren’t quite so foul in the first place. As it was, she had few qualms about taking their heads off with a swing of her spear. Corprus weepings were the easiest to gather of Sul-Matuul’s three tokens, and Velyne stuck them into an empty pouch, feeling very glad for the fact that she was wearing gloves.

The cup was also quite easy to find. There were several throughout the abandoned chambers, though the ash vampires weren’t so willing to just let them take one.

More tricky to locate, even with a more precise location, was the Shadow Shield. It was buried deep beneath the complex, down in the tomb of Dagoth Morin. Who they were, neither of them knew, only that they had to have been prominent in House Dagoth to have their own tomb.

Inside was a familiar setting. The coffin where Dagoth Morin lay was in the centre of the room, with a Sixth House shrine placed on top. Four totems stood in each corner of the room which emanated a glowing red light, and a foreboding presence hung in the air, accompanied by the stench of rotting flesh.

“Nerevar,” said a curt and chilling voice that echoed off of the walls. “I am Dagoth Elam, priest of the Kogoruhn shrine. You refused our lord's promise of friendship and dare step foot into this sacred place. Now prepare to taste the bitterness of his fury."

As at the Ilunibi shrine, a malignant cloud poured from each of the four totems and amassed in the centre. From it, Dagoth Elam rose. Unlike Dagoth Gares, he was tall and willowy, but otherwise similar in many ways. He lacked a true face, instead having a trunk protrude from the front of his head and he wore a shroud of eyes.

Last time Velyne and Julan had faced such a creature, they were unprepared for what they would face. This time, they knew better.

Velyne didn’t hesitate, slashing at the shroud of eyes and blood spurted forth. Dagoth Elam howled, caught off-balance by the sudden attack, long enough for Julan’s blade to slide through his throat.

He was dead before he even had a chance to raise a finger. But Velyne didn’t trust him not to. She remembered the outcome of her encounter with Dagoth Gares all too well, and skirted her way around the body of the dead ash priest.

Resting beneath the shrine was a large bronze shield that definitely looked to be dwemer in make. And enchanted, Velyne realised as she felt the hum of magicka under her fingers as she picked it up.

“That’s everything Sul-Matuul asked for,” she sighed. “Now let’s get out of here before _someone_ -” she glared at the body of Dagoth Elam “-decides to try and curse us like the last guy did.”

[]

It was mid-morning when they reached the camp, and Sul-Matuul seemed pleased to see them, but not surprised like last time he’d sent them to retrieve something.

"I am impressed,” he confessed. Velyne placed the three tokens on the floor - the Sixth House cup, the Shadow Shield, and the pouch of Corprus weepings.

“These three tokens you have brought me. You may keep them.”

“I respectfully decline your offer, Ashkhan,” Velyne replied, bowing her head politely.

Sul-Matuul nodded understandingly.

“Very well. You have passed the Warrior's Test. And I will give you the secret of the Third Trial.”

Even Julan seemed anxious to hear more, convinced as he was that the prophecies were wrong.

“'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star.' This is the Third Vision,” he said vaguely. “You must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the Moon and Star. The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle,

_“The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind, the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl, the dream is the door and the star is the key,_

“This riddle is Wisdom's Test. Take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes, and you shall find the way. Seek the Cavern of the Incarnate. Gain the Moon and Star, and bring it to Nibani Maesa. Take with you my blessing, and the blessing of our tribe."

Velyne left the yurt feeling more confused than when she had entered. Sul-Matuul had refused to explain any further what the riddle had meant, and insisted she would find the answers herself.

A Warrior’s test, and now a test of Wisdom. Typical.

Julan seemed as frustrated as she felt, frowning the whole time they set up camp. They’d thought to rest after their trip to Kogoruhn, but Sul-Matuul’s riddle kept them from wanting to sleep. It was only as the afternoon dragged on did Julan suddenly yell, “I’ve got it!”

He bounced to his feet, not noticing that he’d all but given Velyne a heart attack as he raced into the tent and rooted around inside for a minute. When he emerged, he was clutching their map in his hand triumphantly.

“I know where we have to go,” he said excitedly.

“Great,” Velyne said forcefully through gritted teeth, still trying to calm her heart. “Mind explaining now before I decide to hit you?”

He dropped beside her and unfurled the map.

“Around this area, there’s these rock formations called the Airan’s Teeth,” he explained. “They form a path up the mountain side.”

“And that might lead to the Cave of the Incarnate,” Velyne concluded, her brief threat swiftly forgotten as she pressed a kiss to Julan’s cheek. “Brilliant!”

He grinned, blushing slightly. “Well I had to have my moment sooner or later,” he said sheepishly. He leapt to his feet. “Airan’s Teeth aren’t far from mother’s camp. We could go there now!”

There was no reason not to. They hurriedly packed their camp, said their goodbyes to the Urshilaku, then recalled back to Mashti’s camp. The old mer barely got to ask what they were doing back before they took off up the beach towards Airan’s Teeth without so much as a ‘hello.’

They raced up the winding mountain path until they arrived at a large door engraved with the imagery of a moon and star. They’d found it. Julan tried to push the door open, but it didn’t budge. Velyne had no luck either.

“It must be like Holamayan,” she gasped, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We need to wait until dusk for the door to open.”

Julan flopped down onto the ground, sweating from the run.

“Fair enough. Let’s us… take a break…”

Luckily, dusk wasn’t far off. They took the chance to eat and drink as the sun sunk lower and lower over the horizon. As they rested, Velyne couldn’t help but notice that the feeling of being watched was creeping back in, but still no one appeared when she cast Detect Life. Either she was imagining things, or, if they were being followed, whoever it was was cloaking themselves from her spells somehow.

She didn’t get much time to think about it. Just as the sky started to darken, a voice called out from the twilight. A voice Velyne couldn’t help but think she’d heard before.

**In the dusk hour under Azura's Star, the door is opened.**

Velyne looked up at the door and got to her feet. Julan’s head swivelled to watch as she pushed, and this time the door seemed almost feather light, swinging open with ease. He didn’t seem to have heard the voice. She didn’t have the heart to tell him.

They both stood at the threshold, staring down the dark passage beyond for a few moments.

Velyne swallowed.

“Let’s go.”

The passage wasn’t as long as it seemed, and before long they had emerged into a cavern lit by luminous blue crystals. But that wasn’t the most breathtaking part of the room. Seated in the centre was a statue of Azura, flanked by a moon and a star, and her hands rested in her lap, open. Resting in her fingertips was a ring bearing the shape of a moon and star.

They both stared at it uncertainly. It had to be what the Third Trial had meant. To gain the Moon and Star was to wear the ring.

“This is it.” Julan reached for the ring, but Velyne slapped his hand away. “Ouch, what was that for?!”

Whilst Julan had seen only the ring, Velyne had glanced around the room and, to her horror, realised there were skeletons scattered all over the place, all bearing arms and armour of some sort, yet none of them seemed to have died in battle. It was almost as though they had died suddenly on the spot.

Velyne’s stomach did a nervous flip. There was a reason that not just anyone could walk into the Cavern and take the ring. There was a reason only the true Nerevarine could bear Moon and Star.

“I’ll go first,” Velyne said firmly. “If anything happens to me, then we’ll both know that you were right and I was wrong.”

Julan frowned. “What are you talking-”

“And I would rather take that risk and die rather than lose you to this thing,” she continued and it seemed to click in his mind what it was she meant.

“Wait. Velyne, you can’t-!”

She ignored him, snatching up the ring and sliding it onto her finger before Julan could stop her.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. But Velyne didn’t. She stood there, aware of her still beating heart and still breathing lungs. She wasn’t dead. Had she been wrong?

But then a blinding golden light flooded the cavern, and the statue of Azura and the moon and star that flanked her began to glow with an impossibly bright light, and a presence that could only be described as divine washed over them.

**_Velyne Drals. Nerevar reborn. Incarnate._ **

Both Velyne and Julan froze as they became aware that it was Azura herself speaking to them. And Velyne recalled the sensation of warmth seeping in through the unforgiving chill and fear, like the warm embrace of a loving mother cradling her child. Now she remembered where she’d heard that voice before. That dream when she first arrived at Seyda Neen...

**_"Your first three trials are finished._ **

**_Now two new trials lie before you._ **

**_Seek the Ashlander Ashkhans and the Great House Councillors._ **

**_Four tribes must name you Nerevarine._ **

**_Three houses must name you Hortator._ **

**_My servant, Nibani Maesa, shall be your guide._ **

**_And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine, when you have stood before the False Gods and freed the Heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind._ **

**_Do this for me, and with my blessing."_ **

The glow faded, and the statue fell silent once more, leaving only the gentle blue glow of the luminous crystals behind.

Velyne stood there, dumbstruck and numb even as the revelation washed over her. Her mind was whirring, trying to piece together what had just happened, but only one thing was clear against the static.

She was Nerevarine.

Azura herself had said it, and she wore the Moon and Star that proved it.

Slowly, she turned to Julan. His face was blank, yet she could see his mind going wild behind his eyes. His body started trembling as it sunk in.

“Julan...” she said hesitantly, reaching for him.

Without a word, he turned and ran for the entrance.

“Julan!”

Velyne gave chase, running after Julan as he flung himself out of the door, stumbling briefly and nearly falling to the ground. But as Velyne reached to catch him by the elbow, he vanished. He’d teleported away.

Someone yelled, “what in Oblivion?!” and Velyne turned to see Ioreth, who’d clearly been leaning against the wall waiting for them to emerge. It explained why she’d felt herself being watched, but she didn’t much care right now that he’d apparently been following them again. Julan was gone. He was gone and she had no idea where he had run to. Perhaps to his mother, to Mashti, demanding answers. Wanting the truth she’d kept from him all these years. But maybe he’d choose to just run from that too, go to some far corner of the world and hide forever.

Divines, the thought terrified her more than she thought possible.

“Velyne!” Ioreth barked, shaking her by the shoulder, brow furrowing. “What in Mephala’s name happened?”

He paused, eyes widening for a moment. He grabbed her wrist and tugged it up to take a look at her hand. His jaw slackened.

“Is that…?”

“It is,” Velyne said stiffly. “I’m…”

“Nerevarine.” He nodded. He gestured back to the cave. “I imagine that they’re waiting to speak with you. Do that. I’ll track down the boy.”

“But he-!”

“Has just found out his whole life is a lie,” Ioreth said sternly. “I’m not sure you running after him is going to help right now. Go speak with the False Incarnates. I’ll find him. Hopefully before he does anything rash.”

She wanted to argue. To tell the older mer where he could stick his wit’s end and his False Incarnates. But she didn’t. She nodded stiffly. She knew she was probably the last person in the world that Julan wanted to see right now. Ioreth gripped her shoulder and squeezed it tightly, then set off down the path. He teleported away, and Velyne briefly wondered if he’d set a recall point back at Mashti’s camp when he was last there.

She didn’t want to know what went through the mind of a master assassin sometimes.

But she did as he said and turned back into the cave. Waiting there were spirits, the False Incarnates who’d pursued the path of the Nerevarine but had failed to complete the Third Trial.

All of them were dunmer, men and women of various ages. The youngest looked to be barely out of her teens, and she smiled when Velyne approached.

"Welcome, Velyne Drals, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods," she greeted serenely. “I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me,

"I will answer when I can, and with what I know. But the visions of Azura are often obscure, for two reasons. One, because the future cannot be known, and choices may always be made. Two, because truth is not clear or simple. Azura's riddles warn us to think long and hard. They force us to search carefully for truth and meaning, and not to rely only on impulse and force."

Velyne thought briefly of Julan and nearly laughed. He was the embodiment of impulse and force. What she wouldn’t give to have him there with her. It was a bitter feeling.

"You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar,” Peakstar went on. “None may deny; you are Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honor. But you will be known. You must prepare, and be ready."

“What do I have to do?”

"Dunmer of the Ashlands and Dunmer of the Houses have traditions of a War Leader set over all the tribes in times of need. First, your task is to prove to them their need. Then you must prove that you should be their war leader - the Nerevarine, for Ashlanders; the Hortator, for the Great Houses,

"To show them their need, you must tell them about the Tribunal, how they have adopted the profane tools of the Dwarves, how they have betrayed and misled their people - and give them proofs. You must tell them about Dagoth Ur, and the Sixth House, about their powers and plans, and how the Tribunal no longer has power to contain them."

‘Easier said than done,’ Velyne thought. Dunmer were stubborn by nature, and even more so were the dunmer of Vvardenfell when it came to Outlanders. Convincing them of the truth might well be more difficult than facing Dagoth Ur himself.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but… who are you? What are you all doing here?” she asked, glancing around at the other spirits who stood and watched silently.

"We are the False Incarnates. Those who walked the path of the Nerevarine, but failed,” Peakstar explained. "I survived the blight, but I fell in battle with an Ash Vampire. I could not master the arts of war. Nor could I learn the ways of the Great Houses. They would not have accepted me as Hortator. Not like they will accept you.”

In turn, each of the False Incarnates stepped forwards and told their stories.

The first was an old dunmer woman, with greying hair that she wore in a long, intricate braid.

“Greetings. I was Ane Teria, a holy crusader of the Temple in the golden era of the Tribunate. I contributed substantially to the writings that were later suppressed by the Temple, and now would be called apographa. I followed the Tribunal unquestioningly, to my regret. I never believed in the Nerevarine prophecies until it was too late.”

The next was an old dunmer man garbed in long dark blue robes with bronze epaulets.

"My name was Erur-Dan. I saw Morrowind fall to the Empire. I lived through the humiliation of the surrender, swore hatred and vengeance against Imperial and Tribunal alike for their betrayals. In later years, I despaired, and turned to Red Mountain, where I grew old and died fighting the Blight and Red Mountain monsters.”

A mer in his prime came forward next, with dark red hair worn in a long braid and a thick beard. He had a proud look to him.

"I was Conoon Chodala, an Ashkhan. I led my people against the Akaviri while the Cyrodiil dogs fled before them like kagouti. I quested deep into the strongholds and Red Mountain, cleansing the unclean things in their own blood. I did not heed the counsel of the wise women, and, to my shame, I craved glory, but fell upon my pride as surely as I fell upon the blades of my sister and her allies.”

The next was a woman close to Velyne in age, with a shaved head and lithe build. From her belt hung the tools of a thief.

"I was called Idrenie Nerothan. I lived in the late years of the Tribunate, and behind the scenes, I helped demoralize, then repel the Akaviri invaders. I knew nothing of the Nerevarine or Dagoth Ur until I took refuge with the Ashlanders. I died a fool, trying to loot ruined Kogoruhn.”

The last of the spirits came forward, and he was a very old, withered dunmer man, bowed with age.

"I was known as Hort-Ledd. I died four hundred years ago, in the last days of turmoil and unrest after the Empire came to Morrowind. I was a thinker, and not a doer, and though I was marked by the stars, I was not a hero.”

Velyne looked back at Peakstar, and the young ghostly girl simply smiled at her.

"You cannot fail," was all she said before she and the others faded from view. Whether passing on to their final rest after completing their task, or simply returning to their rest in the cave, Velyne didn’t know.

Her mind turned back to Julan. Perhaps Ioreth had found him by now? She twisted her telepathy ring.

_“Julan?”_

He didn’t reply. Instead she heard only the bubbling and gurgling of water, and the scratching of scribs. Her heart clenched. He’d taken off the ring. Damn what Ioreth said, she needed to find him.

She took one last look around the cave. Morrowind had been waiting for over a thousand years for the Nerevarine to rise and fulfill the prophecy. It could wait a while longer.


	19. Truth and Lies

“Mashti!”

Velyne’s had feet barely touched the ground when she recalled to the beach before she scrambled to the yurt. The flap refused to open and was unusually solid. Velyne guessed that Mashti had barred the entrance with a magical ward. She pounded her fists against it, yelling for the old mer to let her in, not caring in the slightest that she sounded increasingly desperate with every passing second. But all she heard on the other side were the muffled sobs of the mer inside.

“For fuck’s sake!” Velyne screamed, her hands raw from beating against the yurt’s entrance. She was tempted to just burn it down and force Mashti to face her. She controlled the impulse and turned away, dragging her hands through her hair as she wracked her brains for an alternative. Ioreth wasn’t there, so he had to be searching elsewhere. A small comfort that didn’t make much difference truth be told.

Shani.

If anyone knew what Julan might do under such circumstances, it was her.

Without a second thought, Velyne made a mad sprint along the coast in the direction of the Ahemmusa camp. She didn’t care that her hair was coming loose from its knot and that sweat was pouring off of her, making her clothes stick to her skin. Why should she care for something so insignificant when Julan might be in danger?

When she reached the camp, Gunta was waiting for her. The hunter looked worried, and waved her over when she spotted her.

“ _ Please _ tell me that you know the old house dunmer that showed up here a while ago,” she demanded aggravatedly, scowling.

“Ioreth? He was here?” Velyne panted, doubling over as her insides threatened to eject themselves.

“Yes, him. He turned up a while ago and asked to speak to Shani,” she growled. “They left for Vos a while ago, and told me to tell you if you came by. They said they’d be at the Varo Tradehouse.”

“Thanks,” grunted Velyne, straightening up and running off in the direction of the town.

“Wait, what’s this about?!” Gunta yelled after her, though Velyne didn’t waste time explaining. She knew that none of them cared if anything happened to Julan. They might even be happy if he got himself killed. And she wasn’t going to stand about listening to it.

Lleris waved Velyne over the moment he caught sight of her, and he looked horribly anxious.

“Ash, oh by the Three it’s good to see you!” he sighed in relief. It took her a second to remember that he was talking to her. How long had it been since she stopped using that name? “Ioreth and Shani are waiting for you in the old storeroom. They said that Julan’s missing!”

Velyne nodded stiffly, but didn’t waste time making conversation. She headed straight for the storeroom where Shani and Ioreth were waiting, both of them looking horribly grim.

“Velyne!” cried Shani, who threw her arms around her. “Ioreth said Julan had run off. Is it true? You have Moon and Star?”

She nodded again, lifting her hand which bore the accursed ring. Shani stared at it, torn between awe and disgust.

“You’re the Nerevarine,” she said. “That  _ idiot _ . I tried to warn him, but did he ever listen?! This is insane…” She pinched her brow, took a deep breath, then looked back up, her face still grim. “I promised you some answers, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Velyne said firmly, sinking down to sit on a crate. She got the feeling it was best she didn’t stand whilst hearing this story.

"Well, then. Julan's mother – virtually everything she's ever told him is a lie. She never found him in the Grazelands – of course not,” she sighed, shaking her head irritably. “She got pregnant by Han-Sashael, our Ashkhan. Everyone knows what really happened, but we don't talk about it to spare Ahmabi's feelings. She could never have any children of her own you know, so that made it especially hard for her."

“So Mashti lied right from the start,” Ioreth said plainly. “I had a feeling. And Julan wanted so badly to be special that he believed every word she said.”

Shani nodded gravely.

“Mashti had him brainwashed, but..." she hesitated a moment, then went on to say, "sometimes I do wonder if he doubted her, but he was just too proud to admit it."

“It wouldn’t be out of character for him,” Velyne sighed, letting her hair fall loose. She brushed her hands through the tangles like she was hoping it would help keep her mind from wandering. It didn’t work. Even now her stomach was twisting in on itself over and over again as she imagined what was happening to him, each scenario more terrible than the last.

"I mean, he used to spend a lot of time at the camp when we were growing up, he heard what was said. But then, Ahmabi wanted to hide the truth from him so much that she started a hundred different rumors about Mashti, to disguise the true one. Most of them were false, so of course Julan thought they all were. And, well, he loves her,"  Shani finished lamely.

She shook her head. No doubt she was thinking of a thousand different ways to scold him if - _ when _ \- they found him.

"Julan just wanted to believe her," Shani continued, "and of course he wanted to think that he was special, and not just some illegitimate outcast with no future. I mean who wouldn't?"

"And Han-Sachael said nothing?" asked Ioreth.

"Never. He knew of course, but he never let Julan suspect. I honestly don't know why. Perhaps it was Ahmabi's doing. But I used to see him watching Julan in the camp sometimes. When he thought Julan wouldn't see him.” Shani scowled at the ground, then turned her gaze to Velyne. “And it's too late now. You know what Mashti did, in the end. She can never be forgiven. I should have told you this earlier. He might have believed it coming from you..."

“Somehow I doubt that,” Velyne laughed bitterly.

“Don’t be stupid,” Shani said sharply. “Julan's crazy about you. Before there was never anything to prove Mashti was lying, but he still might have listened to you. And now… Now he must realize he can't be the Nerevarine. And I just don't know what he might do. You have to make Mashti talk. She has to know something. And I’m coming with you. I won’t just sit and wait for news."

Velyne didn’t protest, but simply nodded. It always came back to Mashti one way or another, and now she was going to have to claw the truth out of the old mer if she wanted to have any hope of finding Julan.

Judging from the look on Ioreth’s face, he was thinking that the chances were as slim as she thought.

[]

Shani and Ioreth hung back, waiting on the fringes of Mashti’s camp whilst Velyne confronted Mashti herself. They decided that their presence might only make Mashti even more defensive rather than be of any use.

The door was no longer barred, and the fire inside had been put out. The yurt was dark and cold, and Mashti sat by the pit staring coldly into the lifeless ashes.

“Ash. I knew you would come,” she said coldly, not looking up.

“Where’s Julan?” Velyne demanded, not bothering to correct her.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Velyne stormed over to the older mer and grabbed her by the shoulder, forcing her to look around. Mashti, to her surprise, didn’t resist. Instead she just fixed Velyne with a cold and forlorn gaze. “Tell me where he is! Now!”

"I am not lying. He came here, he... I told him everything. He allowed me no choice in the matter." Her gaze remained cold and unyielding, even as her voice cracked. "You know too. I can tell by your face. What would you have me tell you? I am sick of secrets now."

“You don’t get to be sick of secrets when you’re the one keeping them!” Velyne spat. “Why?! What was the point in it, in any of it?! Why convince him that he was Nerevarine?!”

“Why?!” Mashti hissed, rising to her feet and drawing to her full height so that she stood a good few inches over Velyne. She stood her ground, refusing to be cowed by the old mer. “Are you truly so blind to have not figured it out? We were outcasts! His father would not or could not acknowledge him! I could never return to my people! What kind of life could I offer my child, reviled and rejected? When I left the Urshilaku I took little with me except my knowledge of the prophecies. So I gave him a dream…a purpose. It was all I could give him. I had nothing else."

“Or you could have given him the truth!” Velyne retorted. “He had a mother who loved him. What more could he have  _ possibly _ needed?!”

"Don’t you dare presume to understand-!” 

“I understand better than you think I do!” Velyne shouted, stepping forwards so that she was nose to nose with Mashti. “You think you’re the only outcast here?!”

Mashti laughed bitterly. “You cannot hope to compare our plights, girl. You speak of facts, and what are facts? Facts mean nothing to me. Julan could have become the Nerevarine, no matter what the prophecies say. There is always another prophecy, and if there is not, then you can make your own. He could have done anything, anything, that he put his mind to, if only he believed in himself. The fault is mine, for not making him believe enough."

“These prophecies have  _ killed people _ !” Velyne screamed. “Have you ever been to the Cave of the Incarnate? Have you spoken with the ghosts of the people who believed with all they had that  _ they _ were the One, only to fail and die and be forgotten?!”

Mashti’s lips pursed into a very thin line and she looked more dangerous than Velyne had ever seen her.

“The Gods would have protected-!”

“If the Gods didn’t protect Peakstar, or Chodala, or Ane Teria, or any of the others, why would they protect Julan?” Velyne said harshly. “Gods don’t protect people, they just make sure they stay useful until they’re no longer needed.”

“But they did protect him! They sent you!” Mashti retorted. “But now I think perhaps that the Gods have been laughing at me all along. I know you are the one to bear Moon-and-Star…"

Her eyes flickered over the ring on Velyne’s finger.

"…perhaps my son and I have been mere tools to guide you towards your destiny, or perhaps you will fall, like so many others have done. I no longer care about the prophecies. Whether I used them, or they used me, it is all over now. It is finished.”

She sat by the firepit, resuming her pointless vigil of the ashes, but Velyne was far from finished.

“It’s not finished until  _ I _ say it is,” she snarled.

"No," she repeated coldly. "It  _ is _ finished. I have lost the final thing that it was possible for me to lose. I have lost my  _ son _ ."

“I don’t  _ care _ if you’ve lost him!” Velyne spat. “He’s out there alone, and I need to find him. It’s not up to me whether or not he comes back or forgives you, though Divines know why he would. But I  _ am _ going to find him, and  _ you _ are going to tell me where to look!”

"It matters little where he went. He will never return to me, I know that much. I have lost him forever. He never even raised his voice. His face as he left... he looked so much like his father, like Han-Sashael... I know he will not be coming back."

Velyne could have run her spear through the old mer there and then. She was so wrapped up in her own selfishness that she didn’t seem to care about what happened to Julan anymore. She couldn’t control him, so why would she care if anyone else lost him? Why should she care what happened to him?

Velyne had never wanted so badly to kill someone. It would be so easy to just run her through right this second and be done with it. But instead she turned away in her disgust, making to leave. Maybe Julan had left something in his yurt. He wouldn’t really just run away without leaving  _ something _ for her to find… Would he?

"I danced for him…"

Velyne paused in the door, but didn’t look around.

"Han-Sachael. When he came with his men to make trade agreements with my father. All the girls…we all performed a sacred dance, before the evening meal. We only called it sacred in order to justify its place as traditional, but we were right. It was sensual and beautiful, and what could be more sacred than that?"

"He came to my yurt that very night. He was charming and handsome. Perhaps I was a fool, but I believed him when he said he would marry me. We left at dawn. By the time we arrived in the Grazelands I was deeply in love, and stunned by the beauty of my new home. I was happy. Too happy. I soon discovered the truth.

"My love was already married. He wept, and begged my forgiveness. He had been captivated by my beauty, he had lost his wits, he would make things right, his wife did not understand him, he loved me. Male talk. But I was very young, and I loved him. And I could never return home. So I accepted everything he said.

"He told the tribe that I had come to train as a wise-woman. Ahmabi was suspicious, but she had no proof. I saw him in secret, whenever he could get away. I knew people were talking, but I cared little for their opinion. I was happy. But of course it could not last.

"I became pregnant, and we could no longer conceal the truth from his wife. I imagine you know the rest by now. He never said a word in my defense when she wove her lies to cast me out. Not a word."

Her voice was hard and bitter, and had Velyne not been brimming with her own contempt for Mashti, she might have felt sympathy.

"Look at this," said Mashti, and after a moment, Velyne finally turned around. 

Mashti was holding out a dress. It was made from a velvety fur that was coloured cream, and the hem was decorated with intricate stitching. Moons and stars...

"Once it was going to be my wedding dress. My sisters and I sewed it when I was betrothed to my father's gulakhan, and I took it with me when I left with Han-Sachael. Of course I never used it."

To Velyne’s great surprise, she all but thrusted it into her arms.

"Here, you take it," she insisted. "I have kept it too long already, and it has nothing but sad memories. It's only a dress; someone else should wear it, and make  _ new  _ memories for it. Or throw it away, I care not."

Velyne wanted to argue, to refuse and discard it out of sheer spite. But part of her knew how enormous a gesture it was and what Mashti was trying to say. It was her way of accepting what she knew passed between Velyne and Julan. So she took the dress and tucked it into her pack.

"Now, I think you want to know where Julan is."

"I do." Mashti rose to her feet, though she did not face Velyne, instead opting to face the wall opposite, keeping her back to the younger mer. "The last time he left me, when I told him to abandon that girl from the camp, he later told me he had been living in a cave to the southwest of here. I think he said it was west of the caves known as Dun-Ahhe, in the mountains near an outcast camp. Perhaps he is there, perhaps not. But before you go... He asked me to give you this."

Mashti reached into the folds of her robes and produced a folded piece of parchment.

"I don't know what it says, I never learnt to read," she said listlessly, waving a hand as she turned to Velyne. "Take it and... I should confess something."

Velyne didn’t say anything, but waited for Mashti to continue.

"I had not intended to give you the note, nor to direct you. Why should I help one who, day by day, has drawn the affections and loyalty of my son from me? But…” She drew a long breath, as though steeling herself. “I have learned from the past. When I made him choose between that Ahemmusa girl and myself, I thought to strengthen his loyalty to me, but... I miscalculated. I underestimated his attachment to her, and perhaps I underestimated him. I nearly lost him then, and now… now that I have truly lost him…”

She paused, bowing her head.

“If I had the chance again, I would know better than to ask him to choose. I heard how he spoke of you, saw how he looked at you…how he…"

She seemed to choke down the words, then shook her head.

"Enough! I have resolved to give up my spite, and I have aided you, have I not? Go then and find him, if he will be found."

Velyne nodded, and left the yurt, leaving the old mer to her solitude. In her opinion, it was well deserved. The thought of a mother behaving in such a way had never occurred to her. Mothers weren’t supposed to lie to and manipulate their children. They weren’t supposed to demand their loyalty. 

Once outside and out of the insufferably tense air of the yurt, Velyne unfolded the letter.

_ Velyne, _

_ Sorry for running off like that. I needed some answers and well now I have them. I just need to figure out what to do with them. _

_ Don’t worry or anything like that. I’m fine, I just want to think. And don’t think I’m angry about you being Nerevarine. In a way I think I knew it all along. Or maybe I just knew I wasn't. Doesn't matter much now I suppose. _

_ Anyway looks like I won’t be needing a trainer anymore and you never did need me, least of all now. I know you’ll make a good Nerevar, better than me anyway but that's not hard. _

_ Keep an eye on Sha for me won’t you. And mother too. It’s funny how just when I find out she really is my mother I don’t want to call her that any more. _

_ Good luck but you don’t need it. _

_ Julan. _

Velyne choked back a sob.

“Damn swit,” she cursed.

[]

Shani knew where to find Dun-Ahhe, and led the way to the caves. She and Ioreth had heard the shouting from the yurt and had a general idea of what had transpired between Velyne and Mashti. Together, the three of them trudged through the caves in search of Julan.

“We don’t even know if this is where he came,” grumbled Ioreth after he nearly tripped over a scrib.

“It is,” said Velyne. “I know it is.”

And she didn’t say it to comfort herself. She twisted the telepathy ring on her finger and could hear the scratching of the scribs growing louder. They were getting closer to wherever Julan had left his ring.

Velyne cast her Detect Hidden spell, watching for any objects hidden from sight and when they came to the edge of a large pool, she spotted the ring sitting atop of large stone slab, just above the water’s surface. Without hesitating, she slipped into the water and waded across the retrieve it.

The ring was cold and wet, but it was like she had just a piece of Julan back. She hugged it close to her chest before tucking it into a pocket of her pack and climbing back out.

“You were right,” said Shani with the daring tone of hope in her voice. “He  _ was _ here.”

“Meaning we have to keep looking.”

Neither Shani nor Ioreth argued, instead following as they headed deeper into the caves, watching for any signs of Julan’s passing. 

Eventually they came to an underwater lake that was dotted with islands, and at the far end was a chilling sight. 

A door guarded by an a spirit. The skeletal figure regarded the three of them as they approached and waved its bony arm imperiously.

" _ You shall not pass _ ," it hissed. " _ Leave now _ ."

"We’re here for Julan Kaushibael," said Velyne.

" _ He is ours now _ ."

"He's not dead,” Shani snapped, then she hesitated and added, “...is he?"

" _ He still walks the earth, but he is ours now. He will hear our words. He will do our bidding _ ."

Ioreth glowered at the spirit.

“You’re an ancestor guardian of the Ahemmusa, I take it?” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s your interest in the boy?”

" _ For too long, he has ignored our cries for vengeance. For blood,” _ rasped the spirit.  _ “But his mind is clear of the lies of his mother, and at last he can hear us. We have waited too long. But now he is ours. He will do our bidding _ ."

“Look. We know what Mashti did,” Velyne said forcefully. “But Julan shouldn’t suffer for it. Just let me see him. Let me through and I swear, I’ll do whatever I can to help settle… whatever it is you want.”

“Velyne…” Ioreth said warningly, touching a hand to her shoulder.

" _ He is ours now _ ," the spirit repeated. " _ He has no more need of lies and trickery _ . "

“I’m not lying!” Velyne protested. “I love him Divines be damned, just let me through!”

The spirit regarded her for a long time in silence, before bowing its head.

" _ Yes. Perhaps you can help him, if you are truly close. But bring me some token of his that proves your friendship, then I will let you pass. But  _ only _ you. _ " It waved at Ioreth and Shani. “ _ These ones shall wait here _ .”

Velyne reached into her pack and pulled out Julan’s telepathy ring. The spirit nodded its head again and allowed her to pass, but as it said, it wouldn’t allow Shani and Ioreth to follow.

“Be careful,” Ioreth warned. “Revenge has always been prevalent to our people. If you cut a deal with the ancestors and fail to uphold your end, there  _ will  _ be consequences.”

“He’s right. They won’t just let you take him away, not without a price,” said Shani. “Just make sure you bring him back in one piece, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Velyne promised before turning and heading into the caves beyond. 

The passages were nearly pitch black, and Velyne kept a hand to the wall as she walked along. The thought of getting lost was far from appealing, not when the ancestor guardians were lurking in the dark. She could hear them whispering and muttering among themselves, indecipherable whispers in the dark that she couldn’t hope to understand. They made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

After nearly half an hour, the dim glow of a violet crystal finally illuminated the darkness. The passage was as narrow and claustrophobic as it had felt, and Velyne wasn’t sure if the presence of the light was a good or bad thing. But it did mean she finally found her first trace of Julan’s trail. Boot prints in the dirt. It looked like he’d stumbled through, no doubt disorientated by the voices of the ancestor guardians. If he was in a state like he had been on Red Mountain…

Velyne pressed on. More violet crystals lined the way, though their light was still far from comforting. The violet glow coupled with the whispers made Velyne’s insides feel very cold. But before long she realised it was more than that. The cave itself seemed to be growing colder and colder with every step she took. She could see her breath in front of her, and her fingers and ears were numb with cold. She was getting close.

Then she heard the screaming.

“GET OUT, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Julan!” Velyne called, quickening her pace.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I WON’T! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

“Julan, I’m coming!”

She ran, nearly stumbling over the uneven ground as she did, until she came to the edge of a steep slope that led into a pit, and huddled up on the ground at the bottom, swarmed with ancestor guardians, was Julan. His hands were clasped firmly over his ears and his eyes were squeezed shut, streaming with tears. Velyne wasted no time and skidded down the slope. She lost her balance at the bottom, falling forwards, though she ignored the stinging in her knees and scrambled towards Julan.

“Get  _ away _ from him!” she screamed, casting spells at the spirits who hissed and spat furiously at her approach.

" _ Earthwalker, why are you addressing us? This is clan business; family business. You have no place in this _ ," one of them shrieked.

"Yes, I do! You're hurting him!"

" _ Yes, we are hurting him. Because he will not listen. So we make him listen. Until he agrees to carry out vengeance for our kin _ ."

"But in the process, you're breaking his mind!"

" _ His mind matters little. What matters is blood – blood shared and spilled. We called to him in his dreams, but the lies of his mother made him unable to listen. Now he can hear us, but still he resists _ !"

" _ We demand blood in payment for that of our fallen brother, Han-Sashael. He lies unburied in the Daedra caves, cruelly slain through a woman's evil and jealous love. She must pay and his bones must be returned to the tribe for burial. He must do our bidding. We are his ancestors. His duty of vengeance is clear _ ."

Velyne felt her blood go cold. They wanted revenge against Mashti. They wanted Julan to murder his own mother. Velyne had never known the love of her own mother - if she was loved at all, which was debatable given her history - but knew well enough the agony of having the blood of a loved one on your own hands. It was a pain she’d never wish on anyone, least of all Julan.

“Then I’ll tell him,” Velyne said quietly, bitter as the words were in her mouth. “You’re not getting through to him, and he’s no use to you broken. Please. Let me speak to him.”

The guardians’ skeletal faces were unreadable, and they turned to look at one another, conferring in silence. Then they bowed their heads.

" _ Very well. But know this – if he resists, we will return and he will find no rest until he obeys us _ . _ We  _ will  _ have our due. _ "

The guardians retreated into the gloom and the chill lost the worst of its edge, though the caverns were still brutally cold. They were still watching, just out of sight.

Velyne hurried to Julan’s side, wrapping an arm around his back and pressing her free hand to his face.

“Julan,” she said softly. “Julan, it’s okay, I’m here now.”

His eyes snapped open and he looked up, crimson eyes wide and staring at her, as though he couldn’t believe what was in front of him.

“Vel…” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. He reached up feebly, fingertips brushing cautiously against her cheek. “Is that… really you?”

“It’s me Julan, it’s really me. It’s going to be okay.”

But Julan crumpled against her, still shaking with suppressed tears.

“She murdered him, Velyne. It's all true! I heard the story that the scouts told, but I never believed it. But she did, they said so! The ancestors told me! My mother  _ killed _ him, killed Han-Sashael, the Ashkhan,  _ my father _ !"

Velyne wrapped her arms around him protectively, pulling him close, threading her fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to sooth him.

"They want me to kill her! My  _ mother _ ! To avenge a father I never even knew! This is crazy!” he sobbed, tears refusing to be held back any longer, cascading down his face. “But…” he took a shuddering breath and went tense, “it's her fault I never knew him. She's  _ lied  _ to me my whole life! She murdered him! Maybe she  _ deserves _ to die! But…” The rage went as quickly as it came and he slumped into Velyne’s shoulder again. “She's still my mother. I can't do this... Can I?"

Velyne bit her lip. Her instinct would be to say no, that they could find some other way to appease his ancestors. But what other way? They’d yearned for vengeance for so long that they’d finally had enough of waiting and had taken matters into their own hands. And if what they said was true then perhaps Mashti  _ did _ deserve to die. But for her own son to have to do it, her son who still obviously loved her in spite of everything she had done…

“We’ll find a way,” she said calmly, stroking Julan’s hair. “I don’t know how, but we’ll find something. We always do.”

"But what? They say they won't leave me alone,” Julan croaked, his voice cracking. “It's always been them in my dreams, Vel, the voices! But I couldn't understand them! I thought it was the Sixth House, because they were trying to stop me completing my mission. The one on the mountain I thought was Dagoth Ur... I-I think maybe it was my father. Trying... trying t-to stop... me... g-getting myself k-killed..."

Velyne didn’t say anything immediately, but simply continued to hold him until his sobs gently abated. She wasn’t sure how long they were there, but once he seemed to have worn himself through, she pressed his ring into his hand.

“I think this belongs to you,” she said gently. “Now come on. Ioreth and Shani are probably planning to break in here to drag us out themselves by now.”

Julan blinked and stared at Velyne.

“Ioreth and Shani are here too…?” he murmured weakly.

“Of course they were. Ioreth was doing his weird thing of turning up unexpectedly because he was keeping an eye on us and got straight to helping me find you,” Velyne snorted. “And Shani was worried enough that she couldn’t just sit around and wait for news at the camp. We were all so scared when you disappeared Julan. We didn’t know where you went or what you might do...”

She didn’t go on, but it seemed that Julan had the idea. His face flushed a dark purple and he ducked his head in embarrassment, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

"Thank you,” he said quietly. “I didn't think anyone would… And the ring… I didn’t think I would need it any more. So, I... uh, yeah, sorry."

Velyne just smiled, taking his hand in her’s and squeezing gently.

“Let’s just get out of here.”


	20. Recovery

The caverns were still chillingly cold, but it was warmer with Julan pressed against her side. The whole walk neither of them said a word, they just kept each other close as they followed the passages back towards the entrance. 

They were barely through the doorway when they were met by a wailing shriek as Shani threw her arms around the pair, sobbing joyously, her words largely incoherent. When she finally pushed herself away with streaming eyes, she glared at Julan and barked, “don’t ever do something like this again you stupid s’wit!”

Julan hung his head slightly, guilt soaking into his expression.

“I’m sorry Sha, I didn’t mean to scare you…” he whispered, voice still hoarse.

Shani just scowled and hugged him again, squeezing tightly as Ioreth approached with an unusually gentle look on his face. He squeezed Julan’s shoulder before resting his hand on his back, squarely between his shoulder blades.

“All that matters is that you’re safe now,” he said evenly. He dropped his hand and turned away. “Come, I believe it is time to leave. A warm meal and some rest will do us all some good.”

He led the way back out of the cave and found a decent spot to camp huddled against an outcropping of rock that would shield them from the wind. He got a fire going whilst Shani took her bow and went to find something they could cook. Meanwhile Velyne set up a couple of tents whilst Julan sat staring into the flames of the campfire, legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. Neither Velyne nor Ioreth remarked on his lack of contribution. Whilst Ioreth might not have known what had happened in the caves, he could see that Julan had been through something terrible.

Shani returned with a pack filled with canis roots, kwama eggs, and fresh meat. Ioreth got to work preparing their meal as dusk began to fall. Shani retrieved a few blankets from inside the tent and tossed one over Julan. He barely reacted, so she tucked it more firmly around him.

Velyne meanwhile opted to help Ioreth with preparing the food. The crackling of the fire filled the silence, and was soon joined by the pops and sizzling of cooking meat as Ioreth carefully roasted the strips of meat over the flames, whilst Velyne busied herself with cutting up the canis roots. Shani joined her shortly.

“It’s better if you cut them like this,” she explained, demonstrating with the knife. “A cleaner cut makes for better flavour.”

“Right.” 

Velyne did her best to copy then looked back to Shani who nodded approvingly. 

“Better. Hey Julan.”

He looked up with a startled expression, and Shani jabbed her knife in the direction of the kwama eggs.

“Make yourself useful and sort out the eggs,” she said sharply.

He stared for a moment, clearly taking a few moments to process what she’d said, before he nodded slowly and reached for the nearest kwama egg. Ioreth wordlessly passed him a pan and water skin from his pack - honestly Velyne was beginning to think the mer lived out of that thing - and turned over some of the meat.

Julan poured the water into the pan and let it sit in the flames whilst he carefully inspected each egg. As steam began to rise from the water’s surface, he added the eggs one by one.

“Good,” said Shani, once he was done. “Now help us with these roots. Velyne is terrible at this.”

Velyne gave her a playful shove and Shani grinned. Julan joined them and helped to tidy up the roots that Velyne has supposedly ‘mutilated’. 

When the food was ready, the four of them tucked in to eat, saying not a word until they were all finished and their dishes were cleared. It seemed Ioreth had been right. Just getting some warm food in their bellies seemed to have improved even Julan’s mood. He was still quieter than usual, but no longer stared blankly into the fire and a smile seemed to come to him a little more easily now.

Finally, once their plates were cleared, Ioreth gave Julan and Velyne a long look.

“Now. I think it’s high time you tell us what happened in there,” he said firmly, arms folded over his chest.

The pair gave each other a sideways glance, silently conferring, and Velyne sighed.

“It’s a long story…” 

[]

The next day found the four arriving back at the Kaushibael camp and it was only Ioreth’s firm grip on her shoulder that kept Shani from flying bodily into the tent with weapons drawn.

“The spirits did not name Mashti directly,” he said firmly. “It is best we get her side of things.”

“So who else would have done it?” Shani hissed as they approached the yurt. “And she’s a liar! It’s obviously her, she needs to get what she deserves!”

“Such things are never as obvious as they seem,” Ioreth said curtly. “And I have grown wary of the word ‘deserved’ over the centuries. I would not trust it, if I were you.”

Shani scowled at him but didn’t argue further. Julan, still unusually quiet, walked by Velyne’s side, hand in hand, and only his tight grip betrayed his nerves as they pushed the flap open and stepped inside.

It was still dark, and Mashti didn’t appear to have moved an inch as she wallowed in her own self-pity. She turned to look up as the morning sun shone through the open flap and she stared, blankly for a moment, before her eyes widened and her jaw went slack.

“Julan?” she breathed.

“Mother.” 

Julan’s voice was hard and cold as his gaze, but Mashti didn’t seem to care. She rose to her feet, arms open wide as if to embrace him and she moved towards him.

“Julan! My child, you must-”

“I ‘must’ nothing,” he snapped, his eyes still cold and unforgiving. “I’m here for answers from you and nothing else.”

Mashti froze, her eyes drifting over Velyne, Shani and Ioreth, and then they narrowed as they fell back to Julan. Her arms fell to her sides and she drew herself into an almost regal pose.

"So," she began coldly, turning away. "That is why you have come. You ask me why I murdered Han-Sashael? I shall tell you everything you wish, my son.” She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes still dangerously narrow. “But you already know everything, do you know not? If you know that I killed him, then surely you know the rest? Please tell all the sins of your wicked mother since you know them so well."

"I know what the Ahemmusa said happened. I never believed it could be true, until now," he said, and it was only now Velyne could see the resemblance between them. His eyes were identical to her’s.

Then her glare wavered. Her head tilted downwards.

“And now you no longer believe your mother,” was the bitter reply. She turned away again.

"Why should I, when you speak nothing but lies? Lies to hide your shame and your failure. Everything they said about you was true, yet I defended you. But you... you are despicable. You lured him to his death in some cave – "

" _ Some cave _ ? Julan, that cave is known as Sanit. It lies south of here. Its tunnels run deep, even running beneath Red Mountain. It is the source of the Daedra and Corprus beasts invading these lands. Sashael…” She turned and began to pace up and down the yurt. “He was so bold, so reckless. Drunk with the thrill of the chase, perhaps he thought he could drive back the beasts beneath the mountain, and finally make his people safe..."

"And then he was lured there by you!" Julan spat, reaching for his sword but Velyne grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"Julan, no!”

"I know you can summon Hungers!" he shouted. "And make them obey you. I know you were seen approaching the cave!"

"Yes.” As she paced her eyes snapped back to Julan. "I was watching. I scarcely believed he could be so foolish..."

"Shut up! You killed the guard, Mashti. Then you entered the cave to finish the job!"

But she continued, ignoring his interruption, still pacing relentlessly.

"He refused to let me come near him. His fear made him rash... I was forced to defend myself. I had to follow Sashael, to stop him. I had seen the things that dwelt deep in that cave. There was far worse than Hungers in there."

"Oh, so you went in to save him? Yeah, right! Funny how they all ended up dead, then, isn't it? And you came out without a scratch!"

"I was too late," she said hoarsely, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, her hands fisted into her hair and she was slowly coming apart at the seams. "His men were dead, and he…he had gone deeper in, lost in a haze of slaughter. Killing all in his path, unaware that he was the only one still standing. I ran and ran through caves of corpses, but deep beneath the mountain the tunnels were dark and maze-like, and I could not find him. I heard him, dying, but I could not... I never even found his body."

Mashti came to a halt. There was a sudden silence in the yurt, and then she turned to Velyne, tears dripping freely down her face without restraint. 

"I shut myself in my yurt for a week. I said that I was praying to Azura, so that my son might not know of my grief."

Julan’s face softened, the anger slowly draining away.

"I...I think I remember that," he said softly.

"It is the truth, Julan. I am sick of lies, and now it matters not. He is lost to me, and now you too are lost to me.” She turned away again. “Nothing matters to me now.”

"Even if we  _ did _ believe you," Shani interjected before Ioreth could stop her, "why did you never tell Julan? Han-Sachael was his  _ father _ , and he never knew him. How could you deny him that?"

"Deny?" Mashti snorted, shaking her head, turning back to scowl at Shani. "What have I denied him, girl? The chance to be rejected and reviled, as I have been! If you would tell me of my sins, then tell of his as well. He denied Julan, not I. He refused him as his son, I merely spared him the pain of knowing it. I loved him too much to make him endure what I suffered. And now he truly knows all I have to tell.” 

Another uncomfortable silence fell over the yurt and Shani was struggling to not break eye contact with Mashti, too proud to admit defeat to the older mer. And to Velyne’s surprise, Mashti was the one who conceded first, as she turned back to Julan.

“You may kill me now, if that is your wish, I have no reason to live any longer."

He shook his head.

"I can't kill you. Not now," he turned to Velyne. "Come on. Let's go take a walk on the beach. I think I know what I need to do."

And without another word, the four of them turned and walked out in silence, leaving the shadows to fall over Mashti once more.

[]

"I've decided to return my father's bones to the tribe.”

They stopped dead just short of the water’s edge, Julan standing in the surf with the water lapping over his boots as he stared out over the horizon.

"It’s what I have to do. The Ancestors told me," he went on. "But I still wasn't ready to listen. I understand now. My father's body lies deep in the tunnels beneath Red Mountain. His spirit cannot rejoin the tribal ancestors, and so he cannot protect the tribe. I have to return his bones, so they can be properly buried. Only then can the Ahemmusa regain their strength, with the support of his powerful spirit."

Velyne frowned.

"But what about vengeance? They wanted blood, Julan. I heard them."

"I know..." he sighed. "I'm still not sure about that. Perhaps if I find where my father died, there will be evidence of what happened, and some way of proving if Mother's story is true."

"And what if it’s lies, Julan?" Shani demanded. “What then?”

"Then…" he hesitated. "I'll do whatever I have to do. It's my duty. I realized in that cave that I'm not the Nerevarine and I never was. But there is one thing that's been true all along – I have a sacred mission to save my people. And now, I know how. But, I think it's time we talked about you, Vel."

"About me?"

He turned back to face her.

"About what you will do, now that you are the Nerevarine."

Without thinking she twisted the Moon-and-Star sitting on her finger. She had almost forgotten about it, she’d been so caught up in everything else that had been going on. And now she had no answer, which he seemed to sense.

He took her hands in his, and Ioreth and Shani seemed to decide to give them some privacy, wandering further up the beach.

"It's really okay, you know. I meant what I said in my letter. You did get that, didn't you? Everything just seems to make more sense now."

"No, Julan, it doesn't. Not to me, anyway."

"And I understand how you feel. Believe me, I thought the same thing many times. But I always knew there was something special about you, Vel. You're going to be a great hero."

Her chest tightened. A hero. Now that was a word she’d never thought could be applicable to her of all people. And yet he looked so certain, so genuine, eyes sparkling like rubies. Like he could really see it… Even though she couldn’t.

"I don't think you're going to need my help. Still, I'm going to offer it to you anyway. You were ready to follow me up Red Mountain once, and may Sheogorath take me if I won't do the same for you."

"So, you still want to go with me? Travel with me? You threw away the ring…"

"That was before I knew what I had to do. And I never said I didn't want to help you, I just didn't think you would want my help. I'm still not sure why you came looking for me. You have your own destiny now, and you won't need me to fulfill it."

She stared blankly at him a moment. And then began to laugh. She shook her head and slid her hand around the back of his neck, grazing her lips over his.

“Julan, I came after you because I love you, you s’wit.”

His eyes went wide and whilst he didn’t blush, his ears twitched.

"…I love you too," he said softly. "For a long time now... and more than I thought possible. You're the best thing to ever happen to me. If not for you, I'd be another sad failed ghost in that cave of Azura's. You make me happy, and that's... not something I ever expected. I'm sorry I left, I just couldn't imagine that you would still... once you knew who you were..."

"Julan, promise you won't ever leave me like that again."

"Never, I swear it. I'm yours, Velyne Drals, always. It scares me to Oblivion and back that you have to go through this, but I'll do everything I can to make this easier on you. I know you'd have done the same for me. And, most of all, you don't have to do this alone. Before you came, I thought I was on my own, and it was... terrible. I never want you to feel that you have to deal with this alone."

And that was it. Velyne’s eyes burned and her chest seized and she buried her face into his chest, arms wrapping around him tightly. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around her too and held her close, resting his head on top of her’s. They stayed like that for a long few minutes before Julan gently pushed back.

"We can't do this all day," he whispered. "We need to get moving if I'm going to save my tribe and you're going to save all of Morrowind."


End file.
